


The Direwolf and the Dragon

by JesseMo (orphan_account)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3300419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/JesseMo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Viserys Targaryan writes Tywin Lannister, demanding a bride from one of the Rebel houses that sided with Robert, there is only one eligible maid Tywin can offer. Sansa Stark.<br/>In the hopes of preventing further war, Tywin sends Sansa to Pentos to wed the Dragon Prince. But Viserys never had any intention on keeping his word, and weds Dany shortly after to Khal Drogo.<br/>Now sisters, Sansa and Dany learn what it means to be a wife and a queen, helping one another to grow and survive the coming war and the dangers they will face as they travel forward for Westeros to reclaim a throne that Sansa's own house helped to take from the Targaryens.<br/>All men must die, but Dany and Sansa are not men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kings Landing

**Author's Note:**

> So that you are not confused, nothing with Dany has happened yet, so she had not married Khal Drogo yet and Viserys is still alive. Everything so far in Kings Landing has happened except for the red wedding and maybe a few other things. This takes place right after Blackwater.

"Viserys Targaryen is demanding a bride from us. If he does not receive one he will declare war." Tywin Lannister announced to the council upon the beginning of their meeting.

"With what army?" asked Kevan Lannister.

"A Dothraki one. If we do not send him a bride from one of the rebel houses that sided with Robert, he will marry his sister to Khal Drogo and in exchange receive command over his 40,000 men." said Tywin, looking all too composed as always. Tyrion could tell his father already had a plan in the making, he was simply holding this meeting for the sake of making the rest of the members feel included and save peace.

"The Dothraki will never cross the sea, Viserys threat is an empty one even if he does marry his sister to Khal Drogo."

"Never the less, it is not a risk I wish to take." he said. They were still recovering from the losses during Blackwater and this marriage between Joffrey and Margery was costing them more than it was earning them at the moment. The fact is they were broke, and soon the rest of the kingdom will realize. Soon Stannis and Robb Stark would realize and use this weakness against them. They couldn't afford another enemy at their door.

"As it is the Rebel houses that are still standing with daughters are House Baratheon, House Tully, House Greyjoy, House Lannister and House Stark."

"Myrcella is in Dorne, betrothed to Trystane Martell. Shireen is untouchable with this war, and even if she was with her Greyscale Viserys would not have her. Similar can be said for Asha Greyjoy and and Cercei is betrothed to Loras Tryell so that only leaves our dear Sansa." Varys went down the list.

"I had planned to wed the Stark girl to my son Tyrion, to claim the north, but if she is the only eligible lady, than I will forfeit the North for the sake of the rest of Westeros." as his fathers announcement Tyrion felt relief overflow him but a panic quickly replaced it.

They may be saving Sansa from marrying a Lannister, but what guarantee was there that the Targaryan Prince would not treat her the same as Joffrey has. He had heard he had just as short of a temper, often striking at his own sister. But this was the only Sansa would have her freedom, would finally be rid of the Lannisters that had murdered her family and tortured her.

"But, but..." Joffrey began to sputter his face an ugly red, stomping his feet like a child. "Sansa belongs to me!"

"And you casted her aside for a better bride," Tywin reminded him. "The Dothraki are a brutal, savage people and one of the best group of killers there is. We can't afford a war with them Robb Stark and Stannis."

"Mother!" Joffrey looked to Cercei then for support.

"She's a traitor's daughter, darling, it would be a blessing to be rid of her." she cooes, reaching over to put a hand on top of his. "Just think of how miserable she'll be married to that Targaryan filth,"

"I do like it when she's miserable." he mumbled and said no more.

"If there is no objections, I will write to Viserys and confirm the betrothal." he said. "Sansa Stark will depart for Pentos upon his reply and promise that he will never again threaten war against Westeros."

"Have you decided on who will accompany Lady Stark?" asked Tyrion.

"Do you have a suggestion?" Lord Tywin said, not answering his sons question.

"I do." smiled Tyrion.


	2. Pentos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Pentos, Viserys tells Dany of his betrothal.

“I don’t understand.” said Dany as she walked with her brother through Illyrio’s gardens. “You are to wed Sansa Stark. Is she not the daughter of one of our enemies? Her father helped the usurper.”  
“Ned Stark was beheaded for treason,” he told her.  
“Treason?” Dany looked to her brother, clearly surprised.  
“Yes, dear sister, for trying to keep the Usurpers son off the throne. Illyrio has also told me that while Ned Stark was on the Usurpers council he spoke against having us killed. Maybe there's a chance for the Starks to redeem themselves yet.” he explained.  
“Lady Sansa’s brother is currently at war with the Lannisters for the murder of their father. If we can gain his army and Khal Drogo’s it will be all the easier to take back the throne.” he smiled, his gaunt cheeks stretching, it almost looked painful.  
“But I thought…” he had told her that in exchange for Sansa Stark, Viserys had to promise not to wed her to Khal Drogo.  
“I clearly lied.” he looked at her as if she were a child, with pity and annoyance that she still had yet to understand the game.  
“Lady Sansa will arrive with a small party, after I wed her it will not be hard to kill or hold them as hostage those who came with her. We will have them right to Tywin Lannister that the wedding has been consummated and I confirm once more that I plan to keep my word. It will be awhile after until they realize I have broken it.” he seemed so proud of his plan, and Dany knew she should be happy to be going home, but a feeling of dread lurked within her. She did not want to marry Khal Drogo.  
“Is she beautiful?” Dany asked, admiring the winter roses that had been planted. They were blooming beautifully. Dany has worried at first they would not survive the heat of Essos when they had first been imported from the north.  
“I have been told she is very beautiful, taking after her Tully mother more so than her Stark father. They say her hair is like fire and her eyes as blue as the winter rose. She is pleasantly tall, and her skin is as white as the snow that falls so often over Winterfell.”  
“You sound half in love with her already, brother.” Dany smiled at him, her voice meek. She had never heard him speak of a woman in such a way, not even about herself.  
“Jealous?” he raised a silver brow, his arm around her waist growing a little tighter, hugging her to his side.  
“Our father wasn’t kind to our mother, Dany,” his face suddenly turned serious. “Mother tried her best to keep me oblivious to our father insanity, but I heard the whispers through the halls and saw the fires of the executions from the windows.”  
“Our father was named the Mad King for a reason, and rightly so. But what the rebels did to our family can never be forgiven.” he told her, the memory of the screams and the fires, of his mother's tears, gleaming behind his fevered eyes. He often feared that the same insanity that consumed his father ran in him. He heard once that their grandfather used to believe that with the birth of a new Targaryen, the gods tossed a coin to decide whether the child would be a genius or a lunatic.  
He constantly feared he was the latter, that it would be his sister that would end up overthrowing him, that she was the genius meant to rule Westeros. And with that fear came the constant feeling of inadequacy and pressure to be the very best, to prove that he was just as sane as Dany, just as capable. He was the king, he would be the one to take back their home and rule Westeros once more.  
“I know I can be cruel to you, Dany, and I wish I could say it’s to make you strong but it isn’t. I resent you, for taking her from me. Taking the only person who could teach me and love me.” he admitted to her, daringly looking her in the eyes with a stone face.  
Dany was shocked.  
“I am not a good man, how can I be when I had no one good to teach me and raise me?” he said. “But I want to be a good king. I want to reclaim our home and avenge our house but I will need your help. Do you understand, Dany.”  
“I do.” she bowed her head, staring at the ground.  
“You still slouch, you must stand straight,” he said, stopping their walk to move in front of her and correct her posture.  
“Yes, brother.” she said weakly. She had thought with such deep confessions from her brother that there was hope for their relationship.  
“I do want you to be happy, brother.” she said. Their life had been a hard one before they met Illyrio. Her brother had taken care of her and protected her. She had seen the last shred of joy leave him when he had to sell their mothers crown so they wouldn’t starve. He could have left her, told her to wait somewhere and never come back for her. But he hadn't, he never abandoned her.  
“I will be happy once I sit on my throne and have my crown, and only then can I truly be happy.” he gave her a sad smile, pinching her chin fondly in that way he always has before turning her and leaving her alone in the gardens.  
Dany desperately hoped that wasn't true. For their sake and for the sake of Viserys bride to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it a short chapter. I'll do my best to try to make them longer. Thanks for the Kudos and comments from the last chapter, I really appreciate it.


	3. Kings Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Kings Landing

TYWIN

They had received Viserys’s reply. Upon receiving the letter from the Targaryen boy, Tywin had the members of Sansa’s escort notified, though it was to be kept secret from Sansa. As always, Joffrey wished to tell her the news himself. 

There was no turning back now, Tywin thought, the deal had been made. Sansa Stark was their last bargaining chip to get back Jaime from Rob Stark, and now he was giving her away to a man across the sea, hopefully keeping Viserys in Pentos for along while.  
Despite rumor of cruelty towards his sister, Viserys was far more clever and tactical than Joffrey. Tywin had observes Sansa since his return, she was polite, courteous, a perfect lady. She would give Viserys what he wanted and unlike Joffrey would appreciate it. Sansa was beautiful girl, and many houses had written to the crown for her hand, wanting her beauty and the north to themselves.

He cared not for the girls happiness, but if she could make Viserys happy than he may lose his wish all together to have the throne back for a luxuries life with his wife and sister. Illyrio kept Viserys and Daenarys well cared for, but he had his own motives for helping the remaining Targaryens and Tywin would have to figure away to halt his encouragement for Viserys to take the throne. Only Tywin had little to offer him. The man was wealthy all on his own, there was no point in a bribe. Though he had heard he was seeking a third wife. it was possible Tywin could send a maid with Sansa. If not Tywin could either threaten him or offer him a higher position than the one he currently held in Pentos. His spies had told him that Viserys had promised to make him master of coin upon his ascension to the throne.

Petyr Baelish was plotting something, being rid of him and removing him from council and position would only stall what ever devious plans the man had. It had become clear early on that despite what Petyr Baelish could offer the crown, others could offer as well. There was no real need to keep Petyr amongst them other than to keep a close eye on him, and in fact, it seemed that Petyr had been spending less time in Kings Landing and more in the Eyrie. 

But Petyr wasn’t the only one that Tywin was concerned with. Tyrion’s recommendation for Sansa’s escort party had him concerned. It seemed that he wished the girl to travel with as few Lannisters as possible and instead was trying to opt them out for Tyrell soldiers. What had him even more concerned was that he wished to Travel with her to Pentos. His excuse was that now that he was no longer needed by Tywin he might as well leave Kings Landing, see the world. He had already been to the Wall, why not cross the sea? Still, though Tyrion had a point that he was no longer needed since he had been removed from his position as hand of the king and would not be marrying Sansa, there was no reason for Tywin to refuse him. What harm could his shame of a son do. Most likely he would travel from whore house to whore house across the lands, drinking and fucking until he was dead.

His son was no threat to him. Tyrion may be clever but he lacked the allies that Tywin had, and his house name would get him so far on his own. In the end, Tyrion would accompany lady Sansa to Pentos along with his sell sword and squire. At least across the Narrow Sea his son could no longer irritate him, and perphaps even Cercei would be in better mind and spirit once Tyrion was gone. He understood her hatred for him, but unlike Tywin she let it get the best of her and cloud her judgment and drive her actions. Though he suspected she would never truly be happy until she saw Tyrion dead. 

SANSA

Sansa dreamed of grass, of high green grass and clear sky and direwolves. She ran free through the grass in a different body, a stronger body, a faster body, a body covered in fur with claws and fangs to tear apart her enemies. Above her dark shadows raced through the air, broad leathery wings extended out and blocking out the sun. They weren't birds, in fact Sansa didn’t know what they were, but she chased them. She chased them all the way to the sea where she could not follow further, howling for them to return and land beside her so that she could travel on their back across the sea with them. But they were too far to hear her howls, and before she could begin to cry she was awoken by Shae.  
The King wished for an audience with her.

Shae quickly ran a comb through her hair, braided it half up, and made her as pretty as she could in such a short amount of time before they departed Sansa’s chambers for the throne room to be received by the king. The entire long walk, Sansa was taking short and deep breaths, calming her fears as her mind wandered free with every possible, horrible, situation that she might face upon her entry in the throne room. They might beat her again, strip her, are the king himself might find it in his taste that evening to whip her himself again. As they got closer to the throne room, Sansa reached over and squeeze Shae’s hand. 

“You are strong, my Lady, be brave, tell them what he wants to hear and don’t forget to smile.” Shae whispered in her ear as they reached the great door. The Gaurds announced her and Shae parted from Sansa to stand on the side while her charge walked a tall and graceful line to stand before the king, smiling sweetly and curtsying.

“Your, Grace,” Sansa smiled at him, doing her absolute best to hide her disgust towards him. She smile wider.

“Sansa, you have your hair down today, I like it!” Joffrey announced, lounging in his throne, one leg over the arm, his crown cockeyed in a way that he thought was fashionable. 

“Thank you, your Grace, I am so glad it pleases you.” she smiled, glancing at Margery who now stood next to the throne, the opposite side of the queen regent who was glaring at the girl rather than Sansa for once. Margery smiled encouragingly at Sansa.

“Sadly I will no longer have the pleasure of looking upon it for very long,” he frowned, but there was a cruel glint in his eyes.

“Why is that, your Grace?” Sansa frowned, her eyes glancing wildly around her as the sneering faces. What was to happen to her? Had Joffrey finally decided to be done with her and have her meet the same fate as her father, her head to be mounted on a spike next to his rotting skull. 

“Because, you are to be betrothed to Viserys Targaryen.” he said, an evil grin stretching his face in an almost painful looking expression. He was practically bouncing in his seat with giddiness. “You leave for Pentos in a sennight.”

Sansa’s initial reaction was fear, Aerys Targaryen had brutally murdered her uncle and grandfather, and Rhaegar Targaryen had kidnapped her aunt. Targaryens and Stark simply had too bloody a history to feel anything but apprehension and fear at the idea she was to be the wife of one and mostly likely a mother to one as well. But then another feeling overwhelmed her fear completely. Joy. She would be free from Kings Landing, of the Lannisters and far from Joffrey. 

“I am honored you have made this match for me, though I grieve that I will have to part from you, your Grace.” she played her part perfectly, putting on a face of disappointment and sorrow, the joy she felt inside so strong it brought tears to her eyes. 

“Oh, my Lady, don’t cry, you're so ugly when you cry.” the boy king said, standing from the throne to stand before Sansa, roughly wiping a tear from her cheek.

“You may write to me when you feel lonely, which will be often I imagine. I hear that many of the Targaryen men suffered from impotence. The Mad King himself had to resort to all sorts of measures to get his prick hard long enough to put a babe in that whore sister of his.” he said, tucking some hair behind her, playing the sweet prince in front of his bride to be behind him. Margary only continued to smile reassuringly at Sansa, kind as always. If only Sansa knew how to play Joffrey as she had, their positions might have been reversed. 

“Of course, your Grace, if it pleases you.” she chirped, like the little bird everyone thought her to be. “But I am sure you will be far too busy with your wedding to Margery and ruling to ever have the time to reply.” 

“I am the King, I will make the time if I wish for it.” he said loudly, returning to his seat.

“I only wish I could see you happily married in the Sept, I can only imagine how beautiful it will be. You were wise to cast the daughter of traitor to the side for one such as Lady Margery.” said Sansa.

“And it is a shame I will not be able to see you wed as well, Lady Sansa, I am sure you will be a much more beautiful bride then I.” said Margery, playing the game to perfection as she returned Sansa’s compliments. 

“Do not flatter her, my Lady, you are the most beautiful in all of Westeros, and it won’t do for Sansa to think too highly of herself. She is a traitor's daughter after all.” said Joffrey, reaching out to grip Margery’s hand, his hold a surprisingly gentle one as he kissed her knuckles. 

The display of affection was enough to make the whole room either want to vomit or divert their gaze. 

“I am sure, Lady Sansa wishes to be alone with her thoughts now, my Love. Let her be excused so she may absorb the good news of her betrothal?” said Margery, leaning over so that the King would see an ample amount of her cleavage, easily distracting him. 

“Of course,” he grinned wickedly, his voice sharp and cruel. “You are dismissed, Sansa, you have much to prepare for in a fortnight.” 

“Yes, your Grace.” curtsying, Sansa turned and walked with her chin high out of the throne room, Shae meeting her at the door and continuing to escort her back to her chambers. 

Upon their return, Sansa bolted the door behind her. Anyone on the outside would think the sounds Sansa were making were that of a sobbing girl, but these were no tears of sorrow and the sounds from her throat not sobbs. 

Sansa Stark, for the first time in a year, was laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What could Sansa's dream mean? Is she prophetic? Has the torture she has endured unlocked something inside of her?  
> I tried to make this chapter a slightly longer one then the last two and I will continue to work on that with the chapters to come.  
> Also yes this is a Viserys/Sansa story. Sansa and Dany's relationship will be purely sisterly.


	4. Pentos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a slightly deeper glimpse into Viserys head in this chapter.

PENTOS

Everything was set. Sansa would be leaving Kings Landing shortly and be on her way to him. The time it would take for her to arrive across the Narrow Sea was plenty to have everything arranged. It wouldn’t take much time for a set of chambers prepared for Lady Sansa besides his own. If he wished it, after the marriage she could easily move into his chambers or remain in her own. His parents had separate chambers, but that was also because his mother and father held no love for one another. And though he could not guarantee their would be love between himself and Sansa, he would never harm her. He had seen the destruction of his parents marriage, had seen the bites and lines of scars across his mother's skin, even burn marks, from what his father had done to her. Because of this, he would never lay a hand on Sansa. 

Again, it hit Viserys that he may be a bit mad. Here he was thinking that he would never harm his wife, but he had no hesitation in laying a hand on his only blood. He knew he shouldn’t blame Dany, he knew it wasn’t her fault, but their was a deep bitterness within him, an angry fever that he had been inflicted with since he sold their mothers crown. Before then he had taken care of Dany with such care, raised her, fed her, clothed her and made sure she always had a roof over her head. He loved his sister, he did, but he had no one else to lash out against so he took out all his frustration against her. His sister was a princess, her raised her reminding her of that, she deserved to be treated better but all he seemed to do is to treat her like a slave. He would let Drogo’s entire Khalasar fuck her if it meant he would have his crown. 

It didn’t take much for him to realize that he was treating Dany no different than their father had treated their father. More and more through his words and actions did he prove how much like his father he was. He didn’t want to be like his father, he didn’t want to be like the false boy king Joffrey, he didn’t want to make the people fear him, he wanted to make them love him for freeing them of imposter kings fighting for his throne. Yet all he seemed capable of was threatening others instead of making promises for improvement like a real king. The most he has promised anyone was to make Illyrio master of coin upon his return to the throne.

Fear could only get one so far if you did not have the trust and loyalty of your people. Though there were times he would dream of his rule, of serving out punishment the same way his father had, burning. He thought of the silly laws he would abolish against slave trading, the people would all bend the knee to him, they would fear him as fire burned behind his throne and blood ran through the streets. He would wake from those dreams sweating and shivering, because every time just before he woke, the Jaime Lannister would enter the throne room and slice off his head.

Viserys knew there was something wrong with him, was all too aware of his own infliction. It was simply all the more reason to take back his throne, so that he could at least for a little while be known as a good and just king before the madness took him like it had his father. But no matter how much he wished to rush his return to Westeros it would take time, and if any ill befell him he would need an heir. 

There had been a reason his fool of a brother had risked everything in the kidnapping of Lyanna Stark. The Stark women were strong, and their blood was as old, if not more so, than Valyrian. Their offspring were strong, there house upheld honor and loyalty, though he supposed it was loyalty that had been Ned Stark’s undoing. Sansa was also a Tully, their women were just as strong and held duty and family above all else, almost guaranteeing him Sansa’s obedience and her own willingness to protect her new family if he didn’t make the same mistake as Joffrey and abuse her. If he was to gain her brothers army he could not have her hating him or Dany, he would have to win her heart to ensure Robb Stark’s Loyalty, and even that of the Tully’s if he was to be so lucky.

The Tully’s were also fairly fertile. Catelyn Tully with five other siblings. Two brothers before, a younger sister and younger brother after her. It was a shame that Minisa’s first two sons never lasted past their infancy, and her fourth son died with her in childbirth. Buy still, she had proven incredibly fertile. 

Catelyn herself birthed five children with no complications, and it was said that her eldest son was conceived on her wedding night, becoming with child immediately. Surely Sansa would be just as fertile with her Tully blood and womb, giving him just as many sons as her mother had given her father. He would need daughters as well to marry his sons to keep the Targaryen line pure. If he did not marry his children to one another, he would marry them to Dany’s children. 

Yes, Sansa Stark was a very important piece in this dangerous game, and now she would be all his. Tywin Lannister was a fool.

“Your Grace, supper is ready. Will you be dining with Lord Illyrio and Lady Daenarys, or will you be taking your meal in your solar this evening?” a maid asked upon entering his chambers.

He thought for a moment. It had been awhile since he last supped with his sister and Illyrio, and once he was married his bride was sure to expect to spending their meals together. It would do well for him to become accustomed to it now rather than later. 

“I will join them. You may go now.” he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand before turning back to the photograph of his desk. It was a small painted portrait of lady Sansa. Tywin had sent it to him in his last raven, to ensure that the prince would be receiving a bride of worthy beauty. And indeed she was. 

Viserys quickly found himself enchanted by a her portrait alone. She was older now than she was when it was first painted, he could tell by the light in her eyes, the way they smiled with the innocence and naivety of youth. He was sure that light was gone now, it was hard to keep it burning after witnessing the death of a parent. 

Ned Stark betrayed Viserys father and house when he sided with Robb Stark, and he knew in a way he was justified after what his brother had done to Ned’s Starks sister, but he couldn’t truly find it it him to see his death as nothing else but justice. He had planned to kill all those who fought against his house anyway, but he did hold a certain amount of sympathy for his daughter who was forced to pay for his crimes the same way Viserys and Dany had been punished for what their father and brother had done.  
With a sigh, he stood, placing the portrait in the drawer of his desk before leaving his chambers for the dining hall to join his sister and their host. 

They spoke much of the wedding during supper. Daenerys had taken an interest over the fabric and design of Sansa’s dress, and Illyrio seemed all too thrilled to plan a westerosi wedding. The difficult part would be finding a sept, or at least a septon to perform the right. The Old Gods weren't as largely worshipped in the free cities as in Westeros but Viserys insisted in having a Westerosi wedding. If he was to be king of Westeros he had to re-familiarize himself with Westerosi tradition and custom, starting with a wedding.

“I can’t wait to meet her,.” said Daenerys, timid and meek as always.

“As can I,” Viserys agreed with a smile, a rare sight for both Dany and Illyrio.


	5. Kings Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa departs for Pentos

The last sennight had passed far too slowly. After a day Joffrey seemed to fully realize that his toy was being taken away and made sure to play with Sansa as much as he could before she left, of course this playing meant that he did all in his power to torture and mock her before the court and kingdom, but Tywin reminded his grandson not to leave a mark on Sansa or Viserys may reject her. With a permanent, ugly pout, Joffrey obeyed his grandfather. Margery also did her best to keep the Kings attention on her as much as possible to save Sansa from as much humiliation as possible. Tyrion as well did his best to protect her, as he seemed to always do since the time when he was hand of the king. Now his protection was limited to match his authority.

Sansa had learned too late never to trust a Lannister, so she was constantly suspicious of what motives the Imp had for protecting and helping her as much as he did. He was much more clever than his sister, and had a tactical mind that could rival his Lord Fathers if given the chance, she had seen so at Black Water. It was a pity that he did not receive the credit for their victory as he should. At times Sansa even found herself feeling bad for the small man. Though she did not trust him, Sansa had become fond of Tyrion in the way. Besides Tommen and Myrcella, Tyrion was the only person of Lannister blood that Sansa could tolerate. Lord Tywin was simply a calmer and more tactical form of his vicious daughter. People like them simply weren’t capable of remorse. 

When Sansa wasn’t suffering the kings abuse, she was in her chambers preparing her maidens cloak for when she married Viserys. It was Tyrion who procured for her the fine gray silk and pearls that she had used for it. With the material he had given her, she was able to embroider a beautiful direwolf, surrounded by a scatter of pearls, like snow falling. She hadn’t even asked him for such things, her handmaiden Shae just arrived one morning with her arms full of materials saying it was one of Tyrion’s wedding gifts to her and that he thought it was a shame that the queen regent only allowed her such simple clothes and materials. 

A perfect lady as always, she sent Shae to thank him later that evening. Margery stopped by her chambers as well a number of times during the sennight, bringing with her gifts of beautiful gowns. There was one particular dress that she recommended Sansa wear upon her first meeting with Viserys. It was designed in the common Highgarden fashion Sansa had seen the other girls and Margery wear. The front dipped into a deep V, one much more than Sansa was used to. She blushed at the I thought of how much it would reveal. 

“If you can not win his heart, then you must win his cock.” Margery had said, speaking with a devilish smile. Sansa gasped at her crude words, shocked to hear such vulgar words spoke from such an eloquent and charming lady as Margery.

“You mustn't be too shy, a man needs to know that you're interested and want what he wants. It gives him confidence and makes them brave when they normally wouldn't be.” she continued to say. 

“I apologize for my poor language, I only wish to give you some advice. I desperately want you to be happy, Sansa.” she said as they dined in the gardens one afternoon.

“No, please, I don’t want what happened between myself and Joffrey happen to me and Lord Viserys. I need him to love me.” Sansa had reached out and squeezed her hands, speaking in desperate whispers, afraid of any spies that might here.

“Oh, silly girl, Joffrey is not capable of love. I was simply taught how to play this game before you, taught what men like Joffrey desire in a woman. But if you wish for my advice, you will have it, my friend.” 

“It is an indifferent wife that leads a man to unfaithfulness. Be forward, but subtle, you are still a lady and never want to appear wanton. Please him and he will be yours forever.” she smiled, leaning forward to kiss Sansa’s cheek.

“And perhaps one day, we can make a match between our children.” she ended the conversation, just in time as a maiden had come with the message that King Joffrey wished to take a walk with Margery.   
Sansa had not seen Margery for the rest of her stay since, the other girls time spent on weddings preparations and entertaining her betrothed.

Sansa thought of her own betrothed quite often. Lord Tywin would not tell her much about him, not that she had properly asked, she was too frightened of the man and more of what he might say. She was tired of bad men, she was surrounded by them and even now as she was to be sent away across the narrow sea she feared that another waited for her on the otherside. She had heard he was handsome, but like his father before him people described him with mad eyes. They said the people in Pentos called him a cart king, a beggar king. It was only a year ago that Magister Illyrio took Viserys and his sister Daenerys into his home. 

She knew of what the Mad King had done to her uncle and grandfather, how he killed them. She had overheard her father tell her brother Robb what happened to them. No one deserved to die like that, she wouldn’t even wish such a death upon Joffrey and Cersei. And here she was, betrothed to the Mad Kings only living son. 

But still, anywhere would be better than Kings Landing, and she would gladly marry King Aerys himself if he still lived if it meant she would be free of Joffrey. So when she met Viserys for the first times, she would smile at him as if he were her true love, she would bed him and bare his sons and feel relief everyday knowing she is free of Joffrey. She would find a way to be happy again.

She would honor her husband and due to her duty, like her mother, like any good wife. She would be his queen.

The morning before their departure, Tyrion’s squire came to her chambers with an invite to break her fast with him. With this sudden gift she was all the more wary of his actions and they would be travelling across the Narrow Sea with her, but she knew better to refuse anyone while she was in Kings Landing, and accepted.

When she arrived to break her fast, lord Tyrion’s Squire, Podric she believed his name was, was pouring him wine. It was Bron who announced her arrival and let her in to see him. 

“My lord,” she curtseyed to Tyrion walking to the table. Before Shae could pull out her chair, Podric was already there doing it for her smiling shyly at both Shae and Sansa, bowing as he stepped back.

“Thank you for joining me, my lady.” said Tyrion, bowing his head before taking a sip from his wine. 

“The pleasure it mine, my lord, it’s is an honor to receive your invitation.” she said, her mouth watering as she noticed the lemon cakes in the center of the table. Podric was pouring her a goblet of juice, and a plate was already made in front of her seat at well.

“Always so polite,” Tyrion mused. “You should give your brother some lessons in courtesy, though now knowing what I do I don’t hold against him his treatment of me the last we met.”

“I apologize on my traitor brothers behalf,” she quickly said, sipping at her juice.

“No need for all that, you may not think it, but I am on your side.” he told her softly, his expression a sympathetic one. 

“In these chambers I refuse to hear you call your family traitors, is that understood.” he said, his voice suddenly hard, surprising Sansa.

“Yes, my lord.” she nodded.

“Good, now eat.” he smiled. She did. The food was delicious, the juice fresh, and she had fill of lemon cakes as well. 

“I have another gift for you, Lady Sansa.” said Tyrion after they both had their fill of food. Looking to Podric, Tyrion motioned with his hand to retrieve whatever it was. When he returned he had a stack of books in his hands.

“If you are to marry a Targaryen I thought it might best if you knew their history.” said Tyrion. “I am also aware that Viserys and his sister are fluent in their mother tongue of high Valyrian, it might be wise to learn some of the language as well.”

“Thank you, my lord, I do not deserve such kindness and thought.” said Sansa, running her hands over the perfectly preserved tombs.

“Think nothing of it. I also included a recently required tomb on the culture and history of essos. The free cities are very different from Westeros, it would be best to know what awaits you before hand.” he pointed to the middle book.

“Why are you so kind to me?” she suddenly asked, surprising even herself.

Tyrion smiled.

“I have a soft for cripples, bastards and broken things.” he answered, eyeing her over the rim of his goblet.  
They spoke no more on the subject, instead Tyrion and Sansa skimmed through the books he had gifted her. Eventually her wedding came up again and Tyrion informed Sansa that Tywin and Joffrey had assigned him to be the one to give Sansa away and remove her maidens cloak.

“I do not have to if you do not wish it, my father will simply be satisfied if I take witness of the union.” he told her.

Sansa didn’t know what to say. She wanted to tell him no, that she could only ever imagine her father giving her away. But her her mouth simply wouldn’t open and she didn’t understand why. Taking her silence as indecision, Tyrion reminded her she had the entire journey to Pentos to decide and from their the time until her wedding. He understood if she said no, but if she did say yes he let her know what an honor he would consider it to be. 

When Sansa returned to her chambers and the door was bolted behind them, Sansa turned to Shae who was holding her newly acquired novels.

"What do you think of Lord Tyrion?" Sansa asked her handmaiden, taking a seat at her vanity.

"My lady?" Shae was surprised by very little but she had not expected such a question, especially when Tyrion and Shae were trying so hard to hide their relationship.

“Do you think he can be trusted?” Sansa explained. “He’s always so kind to me.”

With a sigh Shae places Sansa’s books in one of her trunks that would be brought to the ship in the morning before going over to brush Sansa’s hair. 

“When men are kind, it means they want something from us.” said Shae as she ran the brush through her mistresses silken locks.

“What do you think he...wants?” Sansa asked, glancing at Shae through her looking glass. 

“I don’t know.” said Shae. Sansa had become like a little sister to her, she would kill for her. She was too sweet, and too naive, she needed to be protected. And as much as she loved Sansa, she was jealous as well of the attention and kindness that Tyrion showed her. She knew not to trust men, knew they only desired one thing from a whore, but Tyrion saw past that side of her, to him she was his lady. But Sansa was a true lady, one who could have given him sons that would be heir to his home of Casterly Rock and too Winterfell. All Shae could ever give him was bastards. She knew they could never truly be together, but in Pentos, maybe they could. 

She had begged him once to run away with her to the free cities, he had refused then, saying that Kings Landing is where he belonged. So when she heard he would be accompanying Sansa by his own choice a rage filled her at her first, but Tyrion was a clever man, perhaps this was his plan. She would soon find out. As clever as Tyrion was, she was sure she could loosen his tongue with her own to tell her what she wanted. 

Even if Tyrion sent her away and tossed her side, she still had Sansa, and it was only until her lady sent her away would she truly leave. More so now that she was too be married, Sansa needed her. She could teach her things that a septa could not.

“Do you think he wants to hurt me, like Joffrey?” asked Sansa.

“No, my Lady, I don’t. But I wouldn’t trust him either.”

The next morning, Shae came to wake her before the sun had even risen. She was dressed, her hair was brushed and styled, and her things were brought to the ship. They hadn’t the time to break their fast in the Keep, instead they would be having their first meal on the day out on the sea.

When Shae and Sansa arrived at the port, Joffrey, Margery, Cersei and Tywin awaited her. Along side of them was also Petyr Baelish, and lord Varys. It appeared that Tyrion had already taken his place on the ship.  
Margery embraced her first.

“I am going to miss you, my darling friend, remember our talks.” she whispered into her ear. Sansa nodded.  
“I prayed last night to the Gods old and new that your marriage be a happy one and that your first born be a boy.” she said kindly as she pulled back to kiss Sansa’s cheeks.

“Thank you, and I have prayed to the gods for the same for you.” Sansa said smiling sadly as Margery stepped aside so that Cersei may have a chance to say her own parting words.

“Farewell, little dove.” Cercei whispered harshly into her ear. “Hopefully the lessons we have taught you will prove useful in helping you survive the Targaryens. I hear Viserys is as mad as his father.”

Sansa did not let her scare her, she would not be afraid anymore. Not of Cersei, or of Joffrey, or any of them.  
It was Tywin next.

“Make sure he does not cross the Narrow Sea. I am sure you would not wish to befall the same fate as the last woman who wed a Targaryen if I hear he is to continue with such plans to take the throne.” as always, he stood calmly, his arms behind him as he gazed down his nose at her.

“No, I wouldn’t.” she answered him stoneley, swallowing her fear of him and his threat and lifted her chin defiantly all the while smiling prettily. He smirked at the gesture. It seemed the wolf inside of her still had some life, he would have to have someone watch her carefully in Essos. This marriage would either save the crown, or destroy it. But it was a gamble he had to take.

“You could have sent any man to take Elia Martell hostage, could have granted them a mercy of a quick death or even fostering her children to use later. You knew the type of man the Mountain was and still you sent him knowing perfectly well what he would do to them.” she said, boldly calling him out.

“For that act alone, you are more of a monster than your grandson. And I swear here and now, if you ever come for my children as you did Rheagar Targaryen’s, I will cross the Narrow Sea myself and take your head.” she wasn’t even sure what came over her, she knew she could have lost her head for saying what she just did.

“How dare you!” Cersei exclaimed, about to call a knight over.

“No, it’s quite alright.” he said, raising a hand to stop his daughter from interfering. “I admire your courage, lady Sansa. Not many people can surprise me as you just did.”

“Thank you, my lord. Farewell,” she curtsyed and walked around him, going straight to Joffrey, wearing her mask of courtesy once more as she smiled and batted her eyes prettily at Joffrey. Who had luckily not heard her threat just then.

“No matter the man I am to marry, you will always be my one true love, your Grace. It is pure agony that I must part from you.” she sighed, playing her part perfectly.

“Yes, well then I must at least give you a parting gift to remember me bye then.” he smiled wickedly before pulling her into his arms and kissing her crudely. It was disgusting, and to make matters worse he was doing so in front of everyone else. When he pulled back it took all of Sansa’s will not to vomit on him. 

“I am sure that will be enough to get you through the bedding. I heard the Targaryens are very cruel lovers, so it is good that I have made you accustomed to humiliation and pain.” he smiled, letting her go at last. Sansa wanted to peel off her skin, his touch leaving her with the feeling of bugs crawling over her.

“And I thank you for such kindness, your Grace. Farewell.” she nearly tripped on her way onto the ship, practically running up the ramp until she was on the rocking surface of the ship. Waiting for her with a hand outstretched, was Tryion, smiling joyfully. She took his hand and allowed him to steady her. 

“You’ve been so brave, my Lady.” he praised her as the ship left port, and they had Kings Landing at their backs. “but your hardship has not ended yet. What shall you do now?”

“I will do what I was too naive to accomplish with with Joffrey.” she told him.

“And what would that be my lady?” he asked, intrigued.

“I will make him love me.”


	6. The Narrow Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bare with me. I really wanted to write an amazing meeting, but it’s come out kind of forced and stiff. But in a way I think it’s kinda suitable, as Sansa armor of courtesies has always felt that way to me. Viserys and Sansa have just met, so despite their pretty words it’s all very rehearsed in a way.

It was only when they were half way across the Narrow Sea was Sansa privy to Shae and Tyrion’s relationship. She was shocked of course, especially when Tyrion had played his part so well in appearing indifferent towards Shae, even pretending to forget her name on a number of occasions. It was Shae who had pleased with Tyrion to allow her to tell Sansa, not wanting the girl to be shrouded in anymore lies and secrets. She was free now, she could be honest, and in return Shae wanted to be honest as well. 

Sansa though not exactly approving at first, taking into account Shae’s low birth, but after two days Sansa realized that it didn’t really matter. They would be in the Free Cities, no one would know the difference of their births in Essos, they could live freely, love freely. And when she discovered the reason Tryion had assigned Shae as her handmaiden was because he knew Shae knew how to play the game and could protect her and advise her. All this time, from the very start he had been helping her. 

With their secrets now revealed the three grew closer, and eventually Bronn joined them to make then surely the strangest group of friends. Sansa constantly felt the odd man out, always so courtesies and polite where the others were crude and brash. She was constantly blushing at what came out of her companies mouths at times. They were almost to Pentos when Shae came to her with the offer to teach her of what would be expected of her once she was married and how to make her husband happy when he made to take his husbandly rights. Remembering Margery’s advice, Sansa welcomed Shae’s help with blushing embarrassment, spending many evenings after alone together in Sansa’s chambers on the ship. 

They kept the Lannisters knights as ignorant as possible, even those that the Tyrells had given them as well. The Tyrells did well in their duties guarding Sansa and the others, escorting the woman around the ship so not to be attacked or harassed by any of the crew. IT was the the Lannisters who had not a care, thinking as little of Sansa and the others as Tywin and Cersei did, whispering crude and terrible things about them behind their back. Sansa paid no mind, reminding herself that they would eventually return to Westeros after her wedding to Viserys. She would no longer have to feel in danger, or fear beatings and insults as she had in Kings Landing. She would keep Viserys happy, he would care for her and protect her, love and honor her as her father had her mother. She would make sure of it. 

Finally it came the day they would arrive in Petos. Sansa was so nervous she couldn’t even eat, not that their meals were the most tasteful as it was, and spent her time with Shae fretting over her appearance as her handmaiden helped her into one of the gowns Margery had given to her as a gift. 

The dress consisted of a low cut, silver jacket over her bodice, crossing at the front and tying in a bow at the side before flowing out into a beautiful silken skirt of winter blue. In these colors she felt like a Stark again, she felt whole for just a moment as she stared upon her self in the looking glass as Shae placed an extravagant necklace of pearl and opal around her throat. Her hair was to be last as was her face paint. She had to be perfect.

Shae did her hair in a completely foreign style to Sansa, not southern nor was it northern, but still it was stunning. Little curls shaping her face, half of it twisted and braided, gathering at the back and pinned with pearls and blue silk ribbons, the rest of her hair curled and twisted together down her neck and back. Very lastly Shae applied her face paint, giving her cheeks and lips color while using a stick of coal to trace her eyes. When Sansa stepped out on the deck later that afternoon, the crew, Tyrion and Bronn, and even the Lannister soldiers were completely in awe of her beauty and grace as she smile prettily at them all. If Joffrey had seen this side of her, even he would have fallen for her beauty. She was gorgeous, a fierce rival against Margery herself. Her beauty alone would surely capture Viserys and place him into her grasp.

“My lady, I have always thought you beautiful, but today you are truly breath taking.” said Tryion going as far as to bow to her. “If you wish to succeed in winning Viserys heart, I now have no doubt that you will.”

“Aye, I’d fuck ya’” said Bronn, looking Sansa up and down, his eyes coming to focuse on the shadows of her cleavage. “It’s nice to finally know you have some teets.”

“Watch your tongue, she is a lady, and will soon be a princess in her own right.” Shae glared at Bronn, but the sellsword only smirked and gave a half hearted apology to Sansa.

“Are we close?” asked Sansa, eyeing the sea trying to spot land. 

“You can’t see it without an eye glass, but Pentos is just on that horizon.” said Tyrion, pointing towards the front of the ship. “I’m sure it will come into view shortly.”

“Do you think it’s as beautiful as the books say?” asked Sansa.

“It is even more so, my lady.” Shae smiled. “I am from Lorath, but I saw much of the Free Cities when I lived in Essos. Compared to Westeros it can be much more savage in some places, but it is an exoctic country you will like it.” explained Shae. 

“As long as it isn’t Kings Landing it could be a barren desert and I wouldn’t care,” said Sansa, though that wasn’t completely true. 

Sansa was accustomed to luxury and comfort, her room may have been small but it had still befitted her station and she had been well cared for by her other handmaidens as well, despite taking their orders from Cersei. Even when they were travelling the Kings Road from WInterfell she had a comfortable bed to sleep in most nights. Their ship was not the finest, and their beds were not as comfortable as the hay mattresses of the Inns on the Kings Road or the feather beds of Kings Landing or Winterfell, but it was better than a bedroll. The food was terrible, but it quelled the hunger in her belly and her baths were that of salt water, but still, her skins was clean and blemish free. Whenever she found herself about to complain, she reminded herself of her situation, of what she had been through and that she should be grateful that she was no longers in Kings Landing and the nightmare she had lived within the Red Keep outside of her chambers.

“Look, my lady, do you see that shadow ahead?” Shae pointed. “Pentos.”

When they docked in the port, they found that Illyrio had a arranged a wheel house to take their party and belongings to his mance. Sansa, Shae, and Tyrion travelled in the carriage, the Tryells soldiers were given horses and Bronn sat with the driver of the wheel house while Sansa noticed happily that the Lannisters were made to walk, unless they wished to pay for their own horses. 

“Remember, my lady, Prince Viserys believes that the people of Westeros are waiting for his return. Even if it is not true, if it is what he wants to hear than humor him and lie and always call him ‘your grace’ unless he wishes otherwise, he considers himself King of Westeros.” Shae reminded her, fixing her hair as they grew closer to the mance, she even startled Sansa when she reached out and cupped her breast, pushing them further up.

“And do not think of that old lions, Tywin’s, threat. When you have babies I will protect them as I have protected you. No one will touch your children, so do what you must to make the dragon happy. But if he hurts you, you must tell me.” Shae squeezed her hand.

“What will you do if he does?” asked Sansa.

Shae smiled.

“I will make him stop.” she promised, the same as she had promised to do if Petyr Baelish ever asked her for anything, bothered her or touched her. Sansa smiled. She loved Shae so much, a hard feet when you could trust so little people anymore.

“We are almost there, it is just up on this hill.” said Bronn, knocking on top of the wheel house. Sansa rang her hands, feeling so nervous that she could barely remember how to breath.

“It will be fine my lady, unlike my nephew Prince Viserys can appreciate a good woman.” said Tyrion patting her hand in an attempt to comfort her. 

“Now you must steal your nerves, show him the confident and proud wolf that he is to marry. Show him you are worthy to be his queen.” he advised her. Tyrion knew this game well, knew Sansa was strong enough to survive it if she was careful as she was in Kings Landing, but some players needed help to make it to the top. 

“I will step out first and give you a proper introduction, one fit of your house and rank.” he told her, taking a swig from his wine skin before putting the top back on and stowing it away. 

“Thank you, lord Tyrion.” she smiled before taking a long and deep breath, and when she exhaled she had become a completely different person.

“We are here.” the carriage stopped, and through the window of the door she saw men is red and yellow robes approach opening the carriage door and greeting them with polite enthusiasm. 

As he had said, Lord Tyrion stepped out first, greeting with cheer a tall and obese man with a forked beard. It was the first time Tyrion had ever met the Magister, but Varys had gifted him with some knowledge of the man, and that he could be trusted to help both himself and Sansa. He spoke highly of the Magister, and it was clear that their was a deep friendship and shared conspiracy between the two. As ever, Varys was a dangerous man to underestimate and Tyrion could never be sure as to what the master of whispers goal was. They would have to tread carefully during their stay in Illryios mance.

“Lord Tyrion, what an honor that I may house you during your stay in Pentos as well as the Lady Sansa and your guests.” he said, bowing his head to Tyrion. Behind Illyrio, Viserys and Dany walked out of the mance. Viserys was wearing his finest garments for the occasion and his hair was impeccable as he sauntered down the steps to stand by Illyrio’s side. 

“Your Grace’s, it is truly a pleasure and honor to meet you both.” said Tyrion with a stunted bow. 

“So the senile old lion truly did send you, I thought he was attempting a jest but I see he was not.” Viserys sneared at Tyrion, disgusted to be surrounded by such filth as the Lannister traitors. How dare Tywin insult him so by sending his own men and son to witness his wedding. He would take joy in killing them all later. 

“My father doesn’t jest, I am afraid. He sent me as a gesture of good faith, you may say, and hopes that we can dry the bad blood between our houses.” Tyrion tells him. Viserys scoffed.

“Your father was the hand of the king, my father’s most trusted advisor and he betrayed him. Your brother stabbed my father in the back before cutting of his head, you had my brothers wife raped and butchered and her children slaughtered and you dare to think that such relations can be mended?!” Viserys roared, gripping the hilt of his sword. 

“I should kill you where you stand, you wretched imp, their is no sin if the guest right has yet to be invoked.” he stepped forward the hilt of the blade at his waist glinting as it was drawn an inch out of his sheath. Bronn was quick to do the same, stepping in front of Tyrion as relaxed as always.

“Please, your grace, you have yet to meet your bride yet.” Illryio reminded him, gesturing to the carriage. “You would not wish to greet her with bloodshed, would you?”

“No, of course not, but---”

“Yes, thank you, Magister.” Tyrion cleared his throat. “It is my pleasure to introduce Lady Sansa Stark, daughter of Eddard Stark and Catlyen Tully, princess of Winterfell.”

When Sansa stepped out of the wheel house, she did so with the same grace, dignity and confidence Queen Cersei had when she arrived at Winterfell. She held her chin high, gave her best and prettiest smile and curtsied to Viserys and Dany.

“Your Grace’s,” she greeted them, smiling at Viserys as if he was her savior himself. In a way he was, if not for his proposal she would still be in Kings Landing being tortured and humiliated by those traitorous Lannisters. 

“It is such a pleasure to meet you, Lady Sansa. I must say I am very excited that I will soon have a sister, I hope you feel the same.” said Dany, stepping forward and giving her a curtsy in return. 

“I do.” said Sansa, trying not to think of her true sister Arya, or the sister that she had made in Margery. She had to remember that she and Viserys would be her family now, her duty would be to them. “It will be an honor to call you my good-sister.”

“and what of me, Lady Sansa?” asked Viserys.

“I apologize, your Grace. I am so honored that you have chosen me to be your wife, I only hope that I please you, your Grace, and bring honor to your house once we are joined in marriage.” she said, looking to him once more with a dazzling smile.

Viserys felt his breath completely leave him, so struck by her beauty. Her red hair was like dragon fire, and her eyes as blue as the winter roses in the garden. Her skin was smooth and pale like ivory, her limbs long and delicate yet still retained the supple figure of a woman grown. For a moment Viserys believed her to be a sorceress, so enchanted by the mere sight of her smile. She looked at him as if she already loved him, and that pleased him as greatly as her beauty did.

“You have already pleased me by just standing before me, my lady. I can now say that the portrait of you I was sent does you no justice, you are far more beautiful.” he said, stepping forward to bow at his waist and take her hand, kissing her knuckles. He tried to remember the songs and tales he used to tell Dany when she was little. Women loved flattery and romantic notions, they wished to be wooed, though in his case his compliments were completely sincere. 

Sansa knew this game of flattery and lies well, she knew now what to say to a man like Viserys to make him happy. She needed to stroke his ego, flatter him just as he flattered her only she must be humble in her replies so that she did not appear concerned. She should be confident but not arrogant.

“And does my appearance please you as well, Lady Sansa?” he asked, testing her Sansa assumed as Joffrey had. 

“I can say that you far surpass any and all description I have been given of you.” she tell him. In truth, he is not what she had expected at all. His face was far more thin and gaunt then she was told, his hair seemed to have lost some of the luster she imagined it once had. He seemed almost sickly, his lavender eyes fevered. Sansa reminded herself that it was unwise to judge a man by his face, she had made that mistake once, and it had proved fatal. “The gods have truly smiled upon me to have matched me with one so fair and handsome as yourself.”

“Shall we proceed inside, your Grace, I am sure that our guests are very tired and famished after their long journey?” said Illyrio to Viserys. 

“I had some courses prepared for your arrival if you are hungry, and if you wish to retire for the evening I will have someone show you to your chambers.” he turned to his guests.

“Oh, a hot meal sounds wonderful. My stomach was fluttering all morning in anticipation that I could barely eat this morning.” Sansa admitted, batting her lashes as the prince.

“Then let us get you properly fed.” said Viserys and held out his arm for her to take. “allow me the honor of showing you to the dining hall.”

“Perhaps if you are not too tired afterward, I might show you around the mance and grounds.” he offered.

“Oh, that sounds lovely. We can take such a chance to get to know one another better before the wedding. I want to know everything about you.” she said, pressing herself agaisnt his arm in what she hoped was a passing imitation of Margery’s behavior.

“As do I, my lady.” he smiled, his grin broad as he looked down at Sansa, glancing at her exposed chest before meeting her eyes.

“Then please, your Grace, lead the way.” she said, her smile impish and seductive, glancing back at Shae and Tyrion before focusing on the prince again, complimenting Illyrio’s mance as they entered, making polite conversation with both their host and Viserys and Dany. 

Slowly as Sansa spoke more with Dany, Shae and Tyrion began to see some of the sweet lady that they knew rather than this character she had to pretend to be. It was a relief as they watched Viserys observe her, showing no malice or detest for his bride to be as Joffrey had so many times. In truth it seemed he was quite transfixed with his young bride, listening intently to what she had to say with sincere interest. Curious to learn more of her as she spoke with his sister and Illyrio, but she always made sure to look to Viserys at the end, smiling and asking his opinion, even complimenting his sword, the guard of it being a pair of dragon wings and the pommel a dragons head with rubies for eyes. It was a very impressive weapon.

Viserys took great delight in Sansa’s interest and admiration, loving the attention that his sister was too meek and shy to give him. She was beautiful and elegant, with a clever wit and happy disposition that cheered him just the slightest. She spoke of Kings Landing, of it’s people, she spoke even more of Winterfell. When asked, she admitted though she was never allowed outside the Red Keep she had heard the servants whisper his name with longing as they were forced to serve under the usurpers horrid son. It was a lie of course, but he did not need to know such a thing. She knew it was a wife's duty to be honest with her husband, to keep no secrets, but they were yet wed and she would say and do what she had to to survive in this new place.

“A little bird told me you have fondness for lemon cakes, so I had some especially prepared for your arrival.” said Viserys, watching as Sansa’s smile grew, her cheeks rosy and eyes sparkling at the mention of her favorite treat.

“They’re my favorite, your Grace, but you shouldn’t have troubled yourself.” Viserys had not minded at all, in fact it had been Daenerys idea to find out what she liked, so that they could prepare appropriately for Sansa’s arrival. So he had Illyrio contact their own spy in Kings Landing to find out all that they could on Sansa’s likes and dislikes, so that he could quickly win her heart and respect. 

His mother always told him stories and sang him songs of brave and handsome knights and princes that saved the fair maiden. He loved those stories, and for a long time he thought his fair maiden was Dany, they were the only two dragons left, she was kind and sweet, beautiful as well. She would make an obedient queen and wife, but she would not have loved him as he wanted. He did not dougbt she loved him, as any sister would love their brother, but she did not love him as a man and he did not want a marriage like the one their parents had shared. Miserable and bitter, hateful and cruel. No, Dany would be more use to him if he married her off then to keep her for himself. 

And now he had Sansa, and with her he would have a true marriage, a content one, filled with sons and daughters and a future ruling side by side over Westeros. He would do what his father never even bothered to attempt.

He would make his wife love him.


	7. Pentos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait. I started re-reading the books and started on the Cousins War series for inspiration and to get a better look into the minds of women in these power games and what it's like for them to be queens and the wives of kings.   
> This chapter is not as long as the last, but I hope you enjoy it all the same.

They ate outside, at a long table overlooking some of the gardens and a beautiful fountain. Vines crawled up the pillars, and the grounds that surrounded them were full of flowers in bloom, the fragrance of fresh fruit in the distance travelling on the wind, the citrus scent clinging to them like sweet perfume. Fresh winter roses were placed at the center of the table, which was draped with a fine white cloth. It was a scene from a dream, the beauty of such an excotic portrait momentarily stunning Sansa.

“Lord Illryio, your home is exquisite.” said Sansa , her eyes wide and excited as she took every detail in. 

“Yes, I take great pride is my mance, I had the finest architects and carpenters design it for me.” he smiled, a servant quickly coming to pull the chair at the head of the table out for him. “Though my first wife also had a great part in it all as well.” 

Viserys’s himself came behind Sansa to pull out her chair, leaning close as he pushed her in, whispering into her ear. “My lady,”

Sansa had to remind herself that it was she who was the seducer and that she must not succumb to him. “Thank you, your grace.” 

Viserys proved himself charming and easy, if not self centered as they dinned together. But compared to Joffrey he was almost humble, nor was he as high handed. Despite the similarities between Viserys and Joffrey, Sansa thought Viserys much more pleasant. Though he still held a bitterness and anger towards Tyrion that prevented him with conversing pleasantly with the dwarf. But he does amuse Tyrion, making jests at the expense of House Lannister, stealing giggles from his sister, and even Sansa who at last has found an ally against the Lions who had kept her captive so long. Tywin’s threat was but a whisper in her ear, her concerns weighing as light as a feather on her shoulders as she talked matters of her wedding with her soon to be good-sister and Illryio.

“A little spider told me that you are a woman of the faith, lady Sansa. Amongst my garden I have a weirwood that you may wed under if you so wish it.” Illyrio said with a jolly grin, one that only grew at the expression that crossed across his guests face at such news. She looked as if she would cry. 

For Sansa a weirwood or heart tree was a connection to Winterfell, to her father, to home. Unlike her mother Sansa was never frightened of the heart tree in Winterfells godswood. She would often go with her father to sit upon it’s roots and pray or practice her needle work as he sharpened and polished Ice beside the pool. They never talked much, but they didn’t need to. 

Her mother was always taken by surprise, that as much as Sansa took after her, she also held parts of her father inside of her. Small parts, but they were there. 

“I did not think weirwoods grew so far south.” said Sansa, her voice breathy before she quickly had her mask back in place, her expression and manners polite but still a glisten remained in her eyes as she sipped at her Dornish Red.

“They usually don’t. But like most things in my garden, I had it imported.” he explained proudly. 

“I always dreamed that I would wed beneath the heart tree in Winterfells Godswood.” said Sansa more to herself than to her host.

“Than we must wed beneath this one.” Viserys suddenly spoke up, startling Sansa with the enthusiasm in which he spoke. “It may not be the one in Winterfell, but I hope to have this wedding as close to the one of your dreams if it would please you.”

“I am honored you would think so much of me, your grace.” Sansa said, tilting her head just slightly, pursing her lips attractively as she batted her lashes languidly. “But what of your pleasure. What did you dream of when you thought of your wedding?” 

“Men don’t think of such things as women do, my lady, but I always imagined as a boy I would wed in the great sept of baelor in Kings Landing.”

“If that is your wish, your grace, then we will simply have to renew our vows once you retake your throne.” the entire table went silent, having not expected such encouragement from Sansa. Viserys, who was also momentarily stunned, broke out into a ear to ear grin his entire face flushing with healthy color while his fevered eyes seemed to begin to at long last clear as he stared at his bride to be in astonishment and joy.

The rest of their party fell silent, clearly surprised by the outright support Sansa had just declared. This was not what Tyrion had expected from her. He had not expected her to dive head first into this dangerous game so soon. It was not a place for her, he thought, as strong as she tried to be. But there was no doubt in his mind that she would make an excellent queen, and always thought Joffrey was a fool for not having enough sense to at least feign love for Sansa like many husbands did to keep their wives happy. Sansa had learned through her own suffering and from watching those around her, how to play this game of thrones. After all she was to marry the rightful king of Westeros, and despite his father’s wishes, he knew not even Sansa’s sweet devotion and courtesies would have been able to deter the dragon princes determination to take back what was rightfully his. But he had not expected him to encourage him so obviously. 

Tyrion wasn’t confident in Viserys’s ability to rule, or that he would make a good king. Not on his own at least, but perhaps with Sansa by his side and the right council he could save Westeros and become the king their country deserved. Only time would tell if such a thing would be possible and until then these thoughts were simply hopes and dreams.

“Yes,” Viserys breathed. He felt as if a new life had been breathed into him by this one womans words. He felt hope. With Sansa’s support he could gains the Norths loyalty, he could travel Westeros with a Dothraki army and a Northern army waiting for him on the other shore. Through the north he could continue to gain allies in Westeros until he arrived. He was also certain he could count on the loyalty of the Martells if need me. 

The Lannisters had killed his niece and nephew, had his good-sister raped by the mountain. He had adored Elia, as did his mother. If he promised revenge for her, he was sure they would once more bend the knee to his family. He was also confident that he would eventually have the House Dayne on his side. The Dornish had always been loyal to the Targaryens, their blood lines intertwined through the centuries.

“After dinner I will have your servants shown their quarters, I am confident it will be to your standards.” said Illyrio, speaing to Sansa and Tryion.

“I am sure the rooms will be splendid. Your a very gracious host, Magister.” said Tyrion. It would be dangerous for him not to win at least one persons favor during his stay, and he doubted his relationship with the dragon prince would be much more than what he had shared with his nephew.

Bronn is standing against the wall, hand on the hilt of his sword, looking very much bored and hungry as he stares at the food lining the long table. Illryio assured them that of course that a meal had been prepared for their knights and would be served to them in the servants chambers. Bronn and Shae would have their meals brought to their rooms later that evening. It pleased Sansa to see the Lannister knights treated no less than how squires would be treated. Even Bronn and Shae were treated with more respect than they were and the Tyrells did not seemed at all phased, taking their meals humbly with the others without complaint unlike the outrage and whines the Lannisters had reacted with. 

After their meal, Viserys asked that Sansa take a walk with him. Shae would have followed behind them, but Sansa wanted her to get some rest and to eat. After, when she was refreshed she could rejoin her. 

Shae thanked her lady for her kindness before following one of Illryio’s servants to be shown to her room along with Bronn and Tyrion, Dany went with them to be polite. Her brother taught her that it was only proper for the Lady of the house to show the guests the houshold. Despite her brother, she found what Tyrion had to say intriguing, though like many, had first been repulsed by his stature and stunted form. He was clever though, his words both comical and well thought out, and it was not long after she found herself enjoying his companionship. Dany was not used to too much company and often found herself feeling lonely, so she welcomed these guests warmly in hopes of winning their favor, and in doing so also gaining her brothers praise by doing so. 

Alone, Sansa and Viserys walked with arms linked, as he showed her the great gardens of Illryio’s mance. Not even the gardens of Kings Landing could compare to the flora of the mance. She briefly wondered of the gardens of High Garden she had once been promised when Margery and Lady Olena tried to wed her to Loras, if they were as splendid as the one she walked through now. 

“You speak of my return to the throne, lady Sansa, but I must question where your true loyalty lies. Not long ago you were betrothed to the usurpers son and your father helped take my fathers throne before your own betrothed ordered his execution.” his voice was harsh as he stared ahead, his hand tense as it sat atop hers.

“If you are to my wife, to be my queen, I must be able to trust you inexplicably.” he told her, his voice reminding her of the icy wind of Winterfell without the cruelty and mockery Joffrey had often spoken to her with. 

“I thought I loved Joffrey. I was so happy when my father told me King Rober--the Usurper wished to betroth us to one another. He was so handsome, I couldn’t look past his pretty features and see him for the monster he truly is.” he voice was hard as the steal of the sword at his waist. “Not until he cut my fathers head off and took me to look upon it.”

“My father tried to protect me, he knew what I did not, about the truth of Joffrey and the Lannisters, and I didn’t listen. I was a selfish and foolish little girl and because of it my father is dead.” and she would forever live with the guilt that if she had just listened to her father, and left Kings Landing when he wanted them to he would still be alive today.

“Afterward Joffrey had be beaten and humiliated in front of the court at every opportunity, punishing me for every battle that my brother one against him.” she continued.

“You ask me of my loyalty, by loyalty lies with my family. My father was hand of the usurper, so my loyalty was to him and to the man he made a vow to. As any wife, when I was betrothed to Joffrey I gave him my loyalty wholeheartedly without a second thought, I only expect you to wish me to do the same for you.” 

She stopped, tugging on his arm gently, but enough to make him turn to face her. She would look her husband to be in the eyes without fear, she would show him the wolf that hid beneath her skin. She would not look away or shy away as she had with Joffrey and show him only the woman that would be his queen.

“Do you know the words of my mothers house, of house Tully?” she asked him.

“Of course I do. Family, Duty, Honor.” he repeated.

“Yes.” she nodded, pleased. “You will be my family when we are married. My duty will be to you and so will my loyalty.” she smiled, boldly reaching to touch his face.

“But I demand the proper respect that Joffrey denied me, as a wife and queen to be. You will never hurt me or shame. Is that understood.” she tried to keep her lip from shaking and her eyes from watering. She had to show him she was strong, that she was worthy of these demands.

She would never trust a man so easily again without him earning her respect first. She would not bow so easily to a prince again and fall for her his sweet words and flattering smiles.

“You demand nothing of me, my lady, as these are the terms of any marriage but unlike the common man, I will uphold these vows to you.”

“And I will uphold mine with fire and blood.” she said, smiling as he leaned into the touch of her hand, his smile one of glee and pride as she repeated his houses words.

“I want us to be happy together. Do you think it’s possible?” she asked.

“Yes, because I want the same. I want to be happy.” he confessed to her. 

“I hate to think of the war my own blood caused, of the lives that were destroyed because of my aunt. I can’t speak of the affair between your brother and my aunt, if she seduced him or if he took her by force,” she chose her words carefully, thinking of how he may react to what she had to say, if he would hurt her for what she had to say to him.

“But if you allow it, I wish to try and wash away the bad blood between our houses and start anew with our marriage.”

“Such a thing will not be an easy task to accomplish, my lady.” he said to her, his violet eyes both hard and soft as he looked at her. 

“I know, but can we not at least try?” she pleaded with him. She wanted to be happy so desperately, and that would be much harder if all her husband saw when he looked at her was her families sins against his. 

“I suppose we can,” he said, faking indifference as he turned from her and began to walk again.

“Thank you, your grace. you are very kind.” she smiled softly, almost tiredly, but because he was not looking at her he did not notice. 

“I am sorry, you had to suffer that way.” he said after a long period of silence between them.

“Thank you, your grace. I am just happy that I am safe now...with you.” she sighed and laid her head on his shoulder and when she did he seemed to let out a breath. Though Sansa did not trust the dragon prince, she did find herself being strangely comforted by his presence. 

“And safe you shall always be with me.” he promised her, but another prince had made a similar promise to her once and she had learned not to trust a mans word, only his actions would prove him true.


	8. VISERYS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viserys throws a tantrum, gets some advice that doesn't make sense to him and hears something he probably shouldn't have heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in awhile. I started working a second job for awhile, which meant I either had to choose between sleeping or writing, and no offense I chose sleep. I have now quit that job have and have time once again to start doing what I love and writing about the things I love such as Game of Thrones.

The gardens were too big for Viserys to show Sansa all of it it one evening and Viserys took note of how tired she seemed to grow. Her journey to him was a long one, and he imagined she longed for a proper feather bed to sleep upon. So after almost three hours of conversing and walking, he recommended they return to the stone walls of the mance. When Sansa voiced her disappointment of not being able to visit the weirwood tree, Viserys promised her he would take her to see it tomorrow.

When Viserys delivered Sansa to her chambers he kissed her knuckles and both her cheeks before bidding her farewell and promised to escort her to supper later that evening. He never looked back as he retreated to his own chambers, a bitter fury boiling inside of him that he would not allow to overflow until he was in the privacy of his own rooms. Servants greeted him in the hall and asked if he needed anything, but each one he angrily dismissed, snapping and raising his hand to them until at last he was slamming the doors of his chamber shut behind him. He moved fast, giving a terrible shout and tossing his belongings from their place. He tore the curtains from the windows and the canopy from the bed.

"HOW DARE THEY!" he roared, the dragon awake and furious as he tore his chambers apart. Servants peeked into the room concerned and afraid only to to be reprimanded and have things thrown at them before they shrunk back into the hall and skittered away. The only one who was brave enough to step fully into Visey's chambers was Illyrio.

"Has lady Sansa displeased you in some way, your grace." he asked, looking around the wreckage of his guests room with a look of indifference.

"She's ruined! They dared to give me a ruined bride!" he roared, flipping one of the smaller tables over.

"Ruined? How so?" asked the magister, one thick eyebrow raised as he rested his hands over his fat belly. "Has she given you some indication that her maidenhead is not-"

"No!" he stomped his foot, his silver hair sticking to his sweat glazed face. "At least I don't believe so."

"Then how is she ruined?" he probed, righting a chair and taking a seat, caressing the fork of his beard.

"They broke her, her will is strong still, but she can not trust me after what they did to her. Can not trust anyone." he growled, but stood still, instead marching over to the large open window, his fist clenched as he rested it against the frame stairing out.

"How can I trust her to rule beside me if she herself can never trust me, her husband, her king!" he roared. 

"You, more than anyone know what it is like to be betrayed, to have everything taken of you, to be able to trust no one. The two of you are very similiar, your grace, use that to win her over." the magister did his best to advise him, patient with the young man.

"I shouldn't have to win anyone over, I am king, that alone deserves respect and obedience." he turned on him

"Of course, and lady Sansa already knows this. She does not expect your life together to be one from a song, she knows her duty, she will be good to you, please you, and one day you may come to form a mutual fondness and affection for one another." said Illyrio.

"And what of love? Should a king not also be loved and adored by his wife and people?" asked the young dragon, glancing behind him at his host for the last year.

"Of course you should want your people to love you. But a woman?" he said, his eyes wide and mouth tilted in an amused and mocking smile.

"So few kings have ever found love with their wives, political marriage's so rarely bloom into sweet romance. If you are lucky you may become fond of each other and find contentness in your marriage." he shook his head, his hand coming to caress the locket around his neck, his own loves portrait hidden inside close to his heart.

"Your brother started a war for the love of a woman, and it cost him his throne and his family." he reminded Viserys. "For a king, love is the one thing you may never have. Do you understand?"

"I don't want a marriage like my parents," was Viserys's answer. "Or my brothers!"

 

"Then treat Sansa with kindness and affection, respect her and never stray from her bed. You may not have love, but fondness can be just as strong as love." the magister smiled, wistfully, thinking of his wives, of his loves and the happiness he had found with them for the time that they had lived. He may not be an attractive man, but Illyrio was a man of not only logic, but passion as well.

"I don't want fondness, I want love, I deserve to be loved." he shouted, slamming his fist against the wall.

"Then you must prepare yourself for the sacrifices love demands from all of us." he sighed and stood from his seat. "Also, if you have forgotten lady Sana's rooms are close enough to hear you. You will have to explain yourself later, so she will not be frightened."

With a bow, Illryio left the room, leaving the young king-to-be to think on what he said.

Cursing under his breath, Viserys took a seat on his bed, his shoulders hunched as he laid his head in his hands trying to think of what he was to do. Was he really asking for too much, was it impossible for him to be loved or to even give love himself? Did he even deserve love after the way he has treated his sister, Dany who always gave him her unconditional love despite his abuse and anger. He was no better than their father.

He thought of beautiful, broken, Sansa Stark with her ice blue eyes and hair like flame, so similar he was almost afraid to touch it as if it would burn him. Her skins was so smooth and pale, it reminded him of the white sand of beaches he would once take Dany too when they were still wandering, when he was a beggar. He imagined a map of bruises on her skin that matched the ones he gave to Dany when she angered him and awoke the dragon. Would he do the same to her as he has done to his sister?

NO!

He could not be that many anymore, the more he heard of the boy king that sat on his throne, of how he treated his subjects how the people whispered curses against him, he knew if he did not change his ways then another uprising would sure to follow his reign, and this time he was sure they would leave no Targaryen alive again. His temper could lose him his throne and destory all of his plans. He had to let go of all of his bitterness and anger, had to start anew with himself and his kingdom. His reign would be one of gold and glory, of prosperity and peace, so that no one could ever say he was not a good king, a just and noble king. Sansa Stark was the start of that process.

He would learn to be kind, starting with her. He would care for her, protect her, never raise his hands or his voice against her. She would be his redemption, his salvation. She and the children that she would give him.

He thought long and deep on Illyrio's words, of the sacrifice that loving Sansa would demand of him. What possible sacrifices would he have to make? He couldn't imagine anything at all he would have to give up in loving her, infact loving her would only grant him more. It would give him the loyalty of the north, a good queen to rule by his side, heirs and the devotion of a beautiful woman. So what could Illyrio have possibly meant. He mulled over these thoughts long and hard, pacing about his rooms for hours until a servant came to remind him of dinner, and that he had promised to escort Lady Sansa from her rooms to the dining hall inside the mance.

It would not do well to keep his lady waiting, so without a second look behind him at his destroyed room, he demanded to the servant that had come to notify him of dinner and ordered his rooms cleaned and repaired by the time he returned from his meal that night. The servant, looking as nervous as they all did around him, bowed and complied, quickly leaving to retrieve more servants to help him.

When he arrived at Sansa's chambers he could hear hush conversation from inside.

"Is he what you expected, what you had hoped for?" he heard the accented voice of Sana's handmaiden. Sheha? Was that her name, he could not recall.

"No, but I don't care." said Sansa. "besides, no one is ever what you expect or hope for."

"Do you like him?" asked Sheha. No, that wasn't her name, and it frustrated him that he could not recall it. She was close to Sansa, she could help him, and here he was unable to even remember the damn wenches name.

"I like him far more than I thought I would." she sighed wistfully. "he's gentler than what I expected, but still…."

"What?" Shea said. Yes that was her name.

"I have been fooled by men before, by Joffrey, how can I ever know for sure what he thinks of me. I thought Joffrey loved me once all because he was kind to me, gave me a pretty pendant, and look at what that flight of fancy lead me to."

"My sweet girl, I already told you that you can't trust anyone, it's safer that way." the handmaiden said is such a soft and said voice that Viserys had to lean close to the door just to hear her.

"But I trust you," said Sansa, and he could hear the creak and scrape of a chair as she most likely turned to look at the older woman.

"And what a little fool you are for doing so." he heard Shae laugh.

"You remind me of Arya sometimes, of what she might have been like when she grew older. You're beautiful, but you're not as refined as a lady should be, your resourceful and strong. The two of you would have gotten along wonderfully, I think." said Sansa.

Arya? Oh, that's right, he thinks. The youngest Stark daughter, Sansa's littler sister.

"Then do not speak of her as if she were dead. You do not know for sure what happened to her after your father execution, and if you are right that she is anything like me I am sure she has found a way to survive and become stronger. Like me. Like you."

"Do you really think so?" asked Sansa.

"For your sake, I do." Shae answered. "You've always had such faith, my lady, do not lose it not you make still need it."

"Do you think I will make a good queen, Shae?" Sansa asked her, and there was silence for a little while as the handmaiden thought.  
"I do, with time and proper council. Joffrey would never be a good king, he is too self centered and cruel, and his parents and council allowed him to be so." said Shae. "King Robert was too busy whoring and drinking to pay any mind to his heir, and Cersei was too paranoid of those outside her own house to seek council and confident that Joffrey would always listen to her and could rule as queen through him."

"You sound like Tryion," Sansa noted.

"That's because my little lion, even in bed enjoys such games and politics, honestly it's all very boring to me. I fall asleep most of the time after he begins to talk." at this both women began to laugh.

"I want that," said Sansa when their giggles calmed down.

"Want what, my lady?" Shae asked.

"Love, comfort. I want to lay beside Viserys and talk nonsense, I want him to prattle on about his day in court until it makes me fall asleep. But most of all, I want to make all those that have wronged me and my family pay, I want to watch them burn and hear them scream."

It was in that moment, that Viserys Targaryen fell in love with Sansa Stark.


	9. Sansa

At dinner that night, Sansa focused her attentions on Daenerys. Since she had spent so much time with the girls brother that day, she felt it was only fair that she make attempts to get to better know her soon to be good-sister. Dany was shyer than Sansa had expected, polite and soft spoken with a slight slouch that she noticed Viserys was always quick to correct, glaring at his sister as she sat up straight. Sansa frowned at this.

Princess Dany was a beautiful girl, with long, flowing silver hair, big violet eyes and a kind smile. She was smaller than Sansa, her body less defined still, but she could only imagine with a little more time her good sister would develop into a strikingly gorgeous young woman, even more so than herself or Cersei. Her manners were on point, and though slightly unsure of herself, she thought Viserys should be proud to have such a sister. 

“And what may I ask do you enjoy in your spare time, your grace?” asked Sansa, cleaning her fingers off in her bowl as they finished their meals. Desert would be out shortly. “are you fond of needle work at all?”

“I am afraid I am not as well practiced in it as I should be,” Dany admitted, glancing warily at her brother, Sansa stared at him as well waiting to measure his temper in his eyes. But he remained still, his eyes avoiding her own. She smiled knowingly. He was trying to keep his composure, restraining himself from berating his sister. Sansa knew what it was like to be humiliated and mocked, and if Viserys treated his sister the same as how Joffrey treated her than she would protect Dany from her brother just as Margery had done her best to protect her from Joffrey. 

“Then perhaps if you would like we can spend some time tomorrow and work on our needle work together. I quite enjoy it myself, I find that it relaxes me.” Sansa offered with a cheerful smile, hoping that the other would accept. If she could get Dany alone, then she could question her about Viserys and what type of man he truly was. She had to know, she had to protect herself. If she knew more about him, about what he liked she could win his heart with quicker precision like Margery had won over Joffrey.

“I would like that very much, lady Sansa.” Dany smiled happily, reassured that Sansa was taking an interest in her. She seemed so kind, and she would dearly like a friend.

“I am glad to hear it.” the two girls continued to talk to no one but each other the rest night, talking of all sorts of things to lemon cakes to what the capitol is like.

“But I am sure that once your brother sits his throne the capitol will once again stabilize and flourish under his rule.” she said, after describing the state in which Kings Landing had fallen to. 

“Yes,” Dany quickly agreed. 

“Oh, but you should see Winterfell someday. It’s nothing like the capitol. It’s so peaceful, oh and the snow,” realizing she was fading away into her own thoughts, Sansa was quick to apologize, better explaining what she was trying to say. 

To Dany snow was such a far off thing, something she had never experienced or thought she ever would. But the way Sansa spoke of it, she made it sound like a thing of ancient magic. 

“The last I saw snow was the day I left Winterfell for Kings Landing, I can still taste the ice on my lips and the chill on my lashes and in my hair.” she sighed wistfully, homesick as she always was. The longing she felt for Winterfell had only grown the father she was from it. 

“It’s sounds like a wonderful place.” Dany said.

“It is.” Sansa smiled before frowning. “Or at least it was before the Boltons took it. Not it’s just a hollow piece of char of what it once was.” 

“Do not be so down heartened, my lady.” spoke Viserys. “Not only will I restore Kings Landing when I retake my throne, but I promise you that I will do the same for Winterfell and give your brother back his land and title in which the Boltons have taken. For you, I will do this.”

“Thank you, your grace, you could bestow my family no greater gift.” she reached for his hand, and squeezed it. Her skin was so smooth that it made it hard for him to think for a moment, focusing solely on the feel of her touch. Sansa noticed this, tracing patterns with her fingers into the back of his hand while she continued to converse with his sister.

They spoke more of the wedding, of what Sansa would wear, what Dany would wear and of the ceremony. It would be the first time Dany would see a Westerosi wedding and perhaps the last. Her own betrothal to Khal Drogo would not be as sophisticated, as it would be a Dothraki wedding. 

“Will we be travelling with Dany and the Dothraki after the marriage?” Sansa asked. She had hoped to live a life of peace and comfort for awhile before they began their march to Westeros. But she feared she would not have such.

“You do not have to if you do not wish. It will be more comforatble and safer if you stay here at Illryio’s mance. I must assure that Khal Drogo keeps his word and the best way to do so is to travel with him.” answered Viserys.

“Thank you for thinking so much of me, your grace, but when the time comes I would like to stay by your side.” she told him, her smile and eyes loving and full of affection. But in her heart burned a desperation to see justice passed. She wanted to be there when the Dothraki crossed the see, to be the one to put a blade through the hearts of the Lannisters who had humiliated and tortured her. 

“Even a queen must endure great ordeals for her kingdom. It will be my honor to do so by your side, your grace.” she smiled at him, color flowing to her cheeks and adding to their already rosie tint. 

“Your strength astound me, my lady.” he said, twining their fingers together and bringing her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “I will do my best to make our journey with the Dothraki a comfortable one for you.” 

“You are too kind to me,” she said, slowly finding herself becoming more relaxed with the dragon king. She didn’t want to always be on her guard with him, she wanted the song still, like the ones old nan and her mother used to sing to her before bed. She would have it, she vowed, she would make sure of it. 

Dany had seemed to become uncomfortable at the mention of her own nuptials, so Sansa instead of forcing her to speak more of it changed to a more lighter subject. Questioning Dany more on her interests and what she liked. 

Every now and then Sansa would look over to Tyrion, giving him a nod and little smile, a gesture he would return to let her know she was doing well. During their voyage over the narrow sea, she had come to rely on his council, something she thought she would never seek with a Lannister. She had once thought his as twisted and deformed as his height, nothing more than another Lannister trying to trick her but she was starting to realize who he really was. 

Tyrion enjoyed this game of thrones, he was good at it and even more so he enjoyed the power helping another to sit that throne gave him. But he also didn’t just want to help anyone ascend the throne and rule. He knew what the kingdom needed, walked the streets, spoken with the small folk, and sat in one every council meeting that he was aware of. He was a man of talent, he had his fathers instinct for politics, compassion, but he also knew how to recognize those who should be punished and the just measure their crimes should be paid. He was a good ruler, as Hand. He could make a king of Viserys where Sansa could not. He could change the outcome of the war to come. It was all a matter of convincing Viserys to listen to him, to get him to trust Tyrion.

So when they had finished the final course of the evening, and were sipping at their wine over conversation, Sansa asked to retire early and that instead of being escorted by Viserys she requested his sisters company instead. This way Tyrion and him could perhaps more of the politics and events currently tearing apart Westeros. Sansa herself knew she would have to eventually put herself amidst such responsibility as queen, but for now she would leave it to Tyrion and her betrothed.

“I will see you in the morn?” Sansa asked Viserys as he pulled out her chair and took her hand to help her stand. 

“Of course, I hope that you will break your fast with me.” he said, brushing a single strand of hair from her brow.

“Nothing would make me happier.” she smiled, and kissed his knuckles. 

“Good night, my king.” she whispered so only he could hear her.

“Good night, my queen.” satisfied, she let her hand slip from hers trying to keep her smug smile contained, twisting it to look like a shy one as she slipped her arm through Dany’s and left with their handmaidens behind them. 

Sansa only glance back once, to give Tyrion a look before she disappeared around a corner with Dany and Shae. 

“I hope you don’t think me to forward, but I was hoping you could tell me more of your brother.” said Sansa when they were far enough that the others couldn't hear them. 

“I very much want to please my new husband, but I am afraid it will take us so long to get to know each other at the pace we are moving now.” she giggled. “He is very chivalrous.” 

“Has he really been kind to you?” Daenerys quickly realized the mistake of her words, her eyes going wide. 

“Should he not? I know there has been much bitterness between our families for many years now, but I was hoping we could move past that.” frowned Sansa. She had expected Viserys to hold a grudge, but it seemed his sister did as well. It would make things more difficult for sure.

“My apologies, lady Sansa, that is not what I meant at all.” Dany was quick to recover the conversation.

“My brother is not known to be kind, he knows how to be courteous and charming, but his temper is as quick as his wit and he has a tendency to lash out at others.” she explained, seeming to fumble over her words as she spoke low, as if afraid someone might be listening to their conversation. She was afraid of her brother, that was clear. 

“Then it is a good thing I have been in nothing but his greater esteem.” she gave a tight smile, knowing full well what it meant to be at the end of a man’s anger. “But, it would greatly help me if you could tell me anything I should avoid bringing up or doing that would upset him.”

“He is very...sensitive if anyone speaks of our mother or the usurper, it makes him very upset.” Dany said, her slouch getting worse as they walked. It reminded Sansa of Arya a little, in the way their mother used to straighten her little sisters posture, but the moment her mother looked away she was hunched over and running. But that was because Arya was wild, Dany just lacked the confidence to stand tall. She didn’t have the same pride as her brother either.

“How sad, he must have loved her very dearly.” Sansa looked away, trying not to think of her own mother so far away and how she used to send her maids and septa away so that she could brush Sansa’s hair herself every night before bed, of the songs she used to sing to her when she was sad after Arya had said or done something particularly hateful. 

“Yes, the last joy left him when we had to sell her crown. He changed after that day. I think his heart broke.” Sansa felt so sorry for Dany, she seemed so alone and miserable despite the servants that surrounded her or the hospitality of the Magister. When Sansa looked at Dany, she felt as if she were staring into a looking glass.

“I’m going to ask you something, and please me honest with me. I swear nothing you say will leave my confidence.” began Sansa, stopping before her room. Shae, quickly assessing the situation from the look in her lady’s eyes stopped at a good distance from them. keeping the other maids as well from going further and overhearing them as Sansa leaned over close to Dany to whisper to her. 

“Do you think your brother would ever hurt me, would ever treat me wrong?” she asked.

“I have been treated cruelly once by king, lost everything to him. My family, my home. I was stripped bare before the court, beaten and mocked. I’m telling you this as a warning, because I see much of the girl I once was in you, Daenerys.” Sansa’s whisper was cold as the winter winds against Dany’s cheek.

“I look at you, and I see the broken and lonely girl I was in Kings Landing. I would have withered away in that horrid place if it wasn’t for a friend who gave me hope, who changed everything. I want to be that friend to you, Dany.” she thought of Margery, who her presence alone changed everything in Kings Landing. Sometimes she felt guilty for conspiring to take the throne that Margery had spent years of her youth working her way to the day she could be the queen. Sansa was no longer as naive as she once was, she knew of Margery’s goals. And no doubt she would make a lovely and brilliant queen, but so would Sansa and unlike Margery she had a family to avenge. She would take Kings Landing as a Targaryen and burn Joffrey and Cersei’s kingdom to the ground. 

“He’s hit me, he’s hurt me, but he was never malicious about he’s just….just scared, he’s always been so scared after losing our mother. He’s been….better, since your betrothal. Almost happy.” she told Sansa, her voice a warm breath as she matched Sansa’s tone.

“I want my brother to be happy, Sansa.” Dany grabbed her hands in some desperate plead, her lavender eyes big and bright.

“So do I.” Sansa told her, but she wanted him happy for reasons both similar and different from Dany’s.


	10. Tyrion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion has some advice for Viserys.

“Sansa is a very sweet girl, don’t you think, your Grace?” said Tyrion, taking a larger drink from his goblet.

“Very much.” Viserys agreed, eyeing the imp with suspicion.

“Why are you here, Imp?” Viserys gave Tyrion a sideways glare, not believing him worthy of his full attention. 

“To assure Sansa’s well being and that of Westeros.” he said bluntly, yet with a certain charm and charisma that he seemed to always have about him. 

“And why would you have such strong interest in either? I believe it is your family that has reigned down the most cruelty upon my lady Sansa and her family, cutting off her father's head,keeping her hostage and torturing her with mockery and humiliation, sending the Boltons to take seige of her home while her brother was fighting a war to avenge their father and rescue his sisters.” said Viserys, not truly angry about all of this, but it was good leverage against the imp and a sure way to win Sansa over by giving and showing empathy for her situation.

“I believe your house did very much the same with the deaths of Rickard and Brandon Stark as well as the kidnapping of Lyanna Stark. But that’s all in the past now isn’t it?” he rebounded on the prince.

“You're treading on a very fine line, Imp.” Viserys said through grinded teeth. Apparently Sansa enjoyed the tiny Lannisters company, and it would do himself no good to upset her before their wedding. “now answer my question.”

“The state of things in Westeros are far worse than what Sansa has told you,” said Tyrion. “ I have seen the turmoil across the realms. I understand the land you wish to rule.”

“When I was hand to the king, I did quite well considering the King I was Hand to preferred torturing animals over leading his people.” Tyrion thought of the boy king he once served, of the good he had done despite the obstacles that were constantly put in front of him by others. 

Viserys let out a loud, bark of a laugh, nearly choking on his wine, he was so shocked and appalled by the Little Man's words. He could never imagine something more absurd. The head of House Lannister was Hand to his father and he had betrayed him, plotted all the while as the Mad Kings Hand how to overthrow him and his family from the throne and place his own atop of it. 

“Are you saying you want to be my hand?!” he asked, his tone mocking to match the look he was wearing.

“No. I want to be Sansa’s.” he said, continuing to surprise Viserys. There was no humor in Tyrion’s eyes.

“I have seen her suffer at the hands of my family, seen them humiliate her and yet against all odds she never broke. She kept strong, remained courteous and proud. But most of all she remained kind.” he leaned forward, looking the prince straight in the eye.

“Sansa would have made my nephew a better man and a great king if he was a wiser and saner person. But as it stands my nephew and family are nothing more than power hungry fools, who see little past themselves.” he admitted.

“Sansa can earn you the people’s love and you will need it, I can promise you that.” he then took a long drink of his wine.   
“Though she does have her more immature moments, she also has moments of great wisdom. 

“She has great potential to be a wonderful queen, and these days queens hold as much power as the kings they are married to.” he continued, thinking of his sister and Margery, even of Catelyn Stark, Sansa’s mother. “We men often forget that while we are off fighting, ruling our lands and enforcing the laws of the kingdom it is the women that are raising the children, teaching them how to rule in our place. If we are not careful, they can raise our sons to rise against us, to stab us in the backs if we unwisely mistreat our wives and neglect our fatherly duties.”

It was more of a musing that he had spoken allowed, thinking of his sister and the way she had pampered and raised her children, in the rules and words she had instilled in them, to only trust themselves and her. All because of her whoring and drunkard of a husband, who dared to humiliate her and pay no attention to his three children(in name only. Tyrion knew the truth of course.) caring more for his bastards than his royal heirs. He had instilled his sisters rage from the night they consummated their wedding and continued to fuel it everyday after. 

“Sansa will do her duty.” Viserys spoke with confidence, sure of the growing relationship between Sansa and himself. “She would never betray me in such a way.”

“Of course she will do her duty, she was born and raised a highborn lady. She has always known her place in the world and of the power she has and that she lacks.” he shrugged. “her parents are two of the most dutiful persons in all of Westeros, duty is in her blood.”

“So you don’t want to be the Kings hand, but the Queens?” he asked, confounded and almost appalled by the mere notion.   
“Indeed, I do.” Tyrion frowned as he gazed into his goblet, finding it empty. Reaching forward, he smiled while pouring himself another drink.

“Such a thing is unheard of!” Viserys shook his head.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” he took another long drink, sighing when he pulled the goblet from his lips. “How do I know you won’t poison her against me, how can I even trust you, a Lannister near my wife?”

“I could, but I could just as easily assure that she will never turn against you just the same.” the small man was looking to be quite a threat to him, though Viserys would not admit it to even himself, not truly. Tyrion continued. “She trusts me. And her trust is a very difficult thing to obtain. I can help you win her over,”

“More importantly, other than Sansa, you’re going to need a council. Those with connections, those with wisdom beyond your own to help you make the right choices. Perhaps if I do well enough with Sansa, you will come to trust me.” he said, swishing his wine around in his cup. 

“And who exactly do you recommend?” he asked, trying to maintain an aloof composure.

“To decide that, you need to find out who are your strongest allies. Dorne for sure, I recommend Doran’s brother or his middle son, Quentyn.”

“Quentyn is currently fostering with Lord Yronwood, he’s a sensible and dutiful youngman, I know for a fact my family thinks no threat of him, if you bring him into your company they will not take notice. Oberyn though he is older, stronger and wiser the council are aware he seeks vengeance for his sister, keeping his company will be more dangerous than helpful.” Tyrion explained further.

“Sansa already has the loyalty and sympathy of the Tyrells. If Margery bares an heir from my nephew before you overthrow him, promise to marry her daughter or son to your own and you will seal an alliance with them. As long as they have som realation with whoever sits on the throne, they will be content. Unlike my house, the Tyrells don’t want to rule Westeros, they simply want a helping hand in it.”

“If you’re going to marry your sister to a Dothraki, you’ll need a member of his Khalasaar on your council as well, as expected with Highborn marriages. Especially if you want to control the Khalasaar.” Tryion continued to drink, his words beginning to slur towards the end.

“The rest can depend on the allies you make on the way. First though, you need to make your mark, prove to this side of the world first that you’re someone to support. Those who wish to help you will than surely travel to your side.”

“Just some of my thoughts on the matter, take no mind to them if you don’t want.” Tyrion shrugged and finished his drink. “Now, if you’ll excuse me your grace, I’m a bit peaked from such a long journey and such a fine meal.”

Viserys watched irritated as Tyrion left, Bronn following with a lazy swag behind him. 

Viserys sat there for hours, dismissing every servant who came to try and clear the table. He wanted to be alone and he did not want to move from where he was. He was quite comfortable in fact. So he sat there as the stars gained in numbers in the sky and the moon grew higher above the mance.

As he sat there, he thought of his brother, Rhaegar. Of a brother he barely knew, he had been so young after all before he died, and Rhaegar was always off reading to the point that others made jest about it. There was times, Viserys had been ashamed of him, and his disinterest inheriting the throne. The few times that Rhaegar had took interest enough in him to spend any amount of time with him he was always kind and loving, he would read to Viserys and tell him gallant stories of brave knights and the beautiful damsels they would rescue. 

Viserys did not think his brother would make a good king. Rhaegar was too sentimental, a romantic and dreamer and his dreams had never included him being King, or how he would rule when it was his time to take the throne. But the people had loved him, so when he had brought ruin to them when he had taken Lyanna Stark, they followed him and fought for him against the Usurper. Not because they feared him, not because he was their prince and king, but because they truly adored him and believed in him. 

And he had thrown it all away. Over Lyanna Stark. He would have understood taking a whore, a mistress, but he had been so blatantly obvious. He had disrespected his wife, sweet and sensible Lady Elia who had given him a daughter and a son, all for some Northern whore that had been engaged to another. Why, because he was in love with her.   
Viserys scoffed. 

What had been wrong with Elia Martell, his wife, that he could not love her. She seemed to please him well enough in their chambers, she was dutiful and loving towards him. She may have been sickly at times but she regained herself well enough after some time and the people seemed to approve of her very much. He had cared for her and his niece and nephew. Elia was beautiful and witty, and had always kissed his cheeks when ever she saw him. He had liked her. And what had been done to her, to her children was a great tragedy that turned his stomach with disgust. 

He knew he should feel ashamed, not for how he felt but of the betrayal he was committing against Elia’s house. It was a secret pact, made in Braavos when he was young. Ser Willem Darry signed for them, the man who spirited him and his sister away from Dragonstone before the Usurper’s men could take them. Prince Oberyn Martell signed for Dorne, with the Sealord of Braavos as witness. The alliance was to be sealed by a marriage. In return for Dorne’s help in overthrowing the Usurper, Viserys was to take Prince Doran’s daughter Arianne for his queen. 

Yet once more his house was betraying the Martells for a Stark woman. He knew his marriage to Sansa would shake their alliance, possible crumble it all together, taking from him a great number of men for his army, very skilled men. He couldn’t help but doubt his decision of demanding Sansa from the Lannister's, when he had a bride already waiting for him. 

He would offer Daenerys to one of Doran’s sons if she was not already betrothed to Khal Drogo. Such thoughts had him falling into deeper contemplation, mostly about what Tyrion had to say about having some form of council. 

He had demanded Sansa out of revenge, against the Lannisters by taking one of their pawns, and against the Starks for going against his house. Sansa’s hadn’t been a necessity, he would have had a beautiful, loyal Dornish bride and a great army to add to the Khals. It would have been more than enough, there was no true need for a Stark army, he could have easily just crushed them with his own on his way to retake his throne. It had been a spontaneous choice when he wrote to Tywin Lannister. One that would potentially cost him a new enemy if Doran took insult of him breaking their agreement. If he had a council, he was sure he would have been convinced against wedding Sansa, that they would keep him level headed, make him really think. 

But he had no one to go to in those times of anger, when his thinking was rash and self harming.

Viserys decided then, that he had been thinking far too much for that night and retreated to his chambers, glancing at the door to Sansa’s, so close to his own, just the way he had wanted it. She was more pleasing than he had imagined, a bride of his choice, she was surprisingly delightful. Something about her eyes burned at him and twisted his stomach in a strange and thrilling way. In some ways she reminded him of his brothers wife, of Elia, with her sweet disposition and soft touches.

He would not make the same mistakes as his brother,not in the same ways he had. He would marry Sansa, he would gain the North and find a way to keep the Dornish, he would have the Khalasar and with them all he would take back his kingdom. But perhaps, he did need some council, to help him work through exactly how he was to do all this. He had no true experience in battle, or any practice at strategy. He would need all this and more. But he had no one to trust to guide him. How could he rely on the Imp so carelessly when he had yet to give him any proof of loyalty. Perhaps he would have to find some way to test him. 

That was a thought for another night. For now he would sleep, and greet Sansa in the morning to break their fast and continue to improve their relationship, and perhaps speak of how she was to get in contact with her brother. He needed to act quick, to assure his ties in Westeros. As much as he wanted to continue to live in the bliss of Illyrio's manse, of his time with Sansa, they would be soon entering a war, travelling a harsh path together, and he would not only have to prepare himself but her as well.


	11. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets ready to break her fast with Viserys and things escalate between them.

It started out as such a beautiful dream. She was wearing a shimmering, silk dress of blue, her hair adorned with pearls. There was snow all around her, the flakes freckling her face as she twirled and danced, melting into cold tears down her cheeks. She heard the song of ice all around her, in the whisper of the winds through the Godswoods, to the howling of wolves. It was the song of her childhood, of her father's childhood, of all of Winterfell. Ahead of her ran Robb, and behind Arya, Rickon and Bran, laughing and smiling as they had when they were younger, when they had all loved and gotten along with one another. They continued to chase and play, their direwolves by their sides. 

Everything was well, even her mother and father was there, watching them from underneath the shelter of the Heart Tree. The closer they grew to their parents, Sansa soon realized her father had no head, and her mother was a translucent ghost, her face frozen as if she were screaming. She turned to her siblings, to warn them, to get them to run with her, but they too had become gruesome ghosts. Her poor little brothers, were charred statues, her sister burst into snow, the wind blowing her away and Robb, sweet, galiant rob had dagger in his heart, her name on his lips as he reached for her.

“Robb!” she called , her tears freezing over into lines of ice, her skin began to freeze, pieces of her cracking and chipping away. What was happening to her?

“My Lady!” Shae, who had heard her lady screaming from their connected rooms, came running, throwing herself on the bedside the young woman and proceeded to wake her, terrified by the sounds she was making.

Sansa woke with a terrible jump, her lips flailing before she focused on Shae and she grabbed hold of her, wrapping her arms around her handmaiden in a shivering embrace as she continued to cry.

“Hush, my Lady, it was just a bad dream, just a dream is all.” she soothed the girl, brushing her fingers through her ladies fiery tresses.

“It was so awful, Shae, I saw them, my family and they were all---” she couldn’t bare to say it aloud, live it all over again. Shae understood, holding her and rocking her until Sansa was calm. When all her tears were done and dried up, Shae actually kissed Sansa’s cheeks.

“I’ll run you a bath, it will relax you and we can wash all this sweat from you.” Shae said, standing from the bed and flipping the silken sheets Sansa’s body. 

“Just wait until you see the tub, it’s as big as a pond.” she continued, pushing Sansa’s slipped to the bed with her own two feet, and holding up her ladies silver robe for her to slip into. 

“It couldn’t possibly be that big,” Sansa’s eyes glittered as she stepped and turned into her robe. The robe was warm as if it had been laid out it in the sun for a few hours, it was soft and woolen, something she was allowed to keep from home after Cersei ordered her things from the North removed, as if her having anything from home was some sort of defiance against the Lannisters. Thankfully she had been able to keep hold of a few things. Heirlooms from her mother and father, little trinkets, the doll her father gave her but nothing that screamed ‘Stark’ nothing that she could wear to symbolize that her loyalty belonged to anyone but Joffrey.

But now...now she was free of the worm lipped king.

The massive bath that Shae had spoken to her of was not adjacent to her rooms, and the two had to walk down the hall to where it was. They were escorted by a few Tyrell guards, and Sansa was once again for Margery’s generosity, not trusting the hateful yet lustful looks of the Lannisters. She would have to find a way to rid herself of them after her marriage.

The bath chamber was massive, four pillars framing the large, deep bath in the middle. Each small tile holding a rainbow of color. Handmaidens were finishing filling it with the last few buckets of steaming water. Sansa missed the convenience of Winterfell’s hot spring baths, the water always warm and ready from the tap system that connected to the ventilation of the warm water through it’s walls. 

There were two large, open windows looking out over a large pink cliff that looked over the shore of the ocean so close that she could hear the waves. Maids were already filling the bath with steaming water.

“After your bath I think we should choose something in your house colors, sensual but modest. You showed him yesterday the desirable wife you can be, today you must show him the modest queen you can be.” said Shae as she washed Sansa’s hair, combing through the tangles, massaging the base at her neck, tickling her spine until she laughs.

“Shae, stop it.” Sansa laugh, the water splashing and spilling out of the marble tub.

“Have you even taken the time to see all the gowns that the Magister and The Dragon has gifted you?” Shae asked.

Sansa shook her head and sunk herself a little deeper into the tub, sliding down the marble seat inside of it. It was so heavenly, the warm water, the foreign bath salts emanating a lovely scent and clinging to her skin like perfume. 

She was reminded again of the large hot spring tubs of Winterfell, of the time she and Arya would be bathed together when they were little. Arya would always splash her, never able to hold still until Sansa some in her eyes and start to cry and their Septa would scold Arya before making her apologize. Once she did, Sansa would act all innocent and then splash Arya back, getting her vengeance. After both of them would both continue to splash each other, until their poor septa was soaked through her clothes, as wet as they were in the bath. 

It was actually one of her fonder memories of her sister, both laughing at their soaken septa before their mother came in and gave them a harsh scolding. She wondered many days if her sister was still alive, if she hadn’t died out on the side of some dirt path like a beggar. But no, her sister was much more cunning and stronger than that. If anyone of them could survive on their own it was Arya. She had to believe this, no matter how much they infuriated each other, how different they were, they were sisters and she wanted Arya alive and safe. Arya would find her way back to their pack, to their brothers and mother, home to the North. 

“Or maybe you should where his house colors, try to win his favor a little more.” Shae suggested.

“I’ve had enough of red, there was far too much of it in King's Landing. Dyed into my clothes and the ground there.” Sansa shuddered, thinking of all the blood she had seen. 

“Then maybe black. Silver and Black, a combination of your house and his. Bold and elegant, yes?” Shae nudged her.

Silver and black, somehow it made Sansa think of the night watch and of her bastard brother Jon. She had thought much of him since her father's death and Arya disappeared. If Arya couldn’t get to Robb and their mother than she would head for the Wall, to Jon. Sansa had always been jealous of their relationship, that she had never shared such a strong bond with any of her siblings as Arya had with Jon. She had always assumed that they all loved each other equally, but the way of the North was never a very expressful one, yet maybe she should have told her siblings more how much she cared for them, even Arya. 

It was in these solemn moments of remembering her family that she missed Lady all the more than she already did. When she died, it was like a piece of her had gone with her. Lady was the North, she was winter and home...Lady was the reflection of herself, her spirit made into being. Thinking of her still brought tears to Sansa. A day had and would never pass that she did not mourn the death of her direwolf.

“Yes,” Sansa agreed absentmindedly as she raised from the bath, the water jostling at her hips and thighs, her body bare in front of her handmaiden. 

Pale scars were scattered across her body from Joffrey’s cruelty, proof that her once pure body had been touched by the coarse hands and swords of the Kings Gaurd, men who had meant to protect fair maidens such as her. The only one who had ever seemed close to protecting her was the Hound. She wondered at times where he had gone after the night of Black Water and what had become of him. She hoped, for the little kindness he had shown her, that he was safe.

“Then let us get you ready to break your fast with the Dragon,” said Shae as she slipped Sansa’s robe over the girl's shoulders, twisting her hair and holding it up with a simple long pin until she could properly dry it and brush it when they were back in Sansa’s chambers. 

Once they were back in the room and Sansa was completely dry, Shae helped Sansa step into the silver gown she had mentioned, the silk soft and flowing around her hips and legs, while the top slanted and held up at one shoulder. Modestly covering her breasts yet keeping a certain sex appeal by the tantalizing exposure of her bare arms. Though she was very unfamiliar with gowns that did not have long sleeves, Sansa was much more comfortable in the gown, relieved that the cleavage of her breasts were no longer exposed. She had been so embarrassed in the dress that she had worn on their arrival. Her mother had did nothing but preach modesty to her growing up, that a highborn lady did not resort to showing so much skin or dressed like a whore.

She wore the same opal necklace from the other day and Shae twined black satin into Sansa’s hair and slipped on a few black and red jeweled rings onto her slender fingers for her. More gifts from Viserys.

“You do remember you are also spending the day with Princess Daenerys after you break your fast with the Dragon, yes?” Shae reminded her, and Sansa took note that her handmaiden never called Viserys by his name or title. It was always ‘The Dragon’. She wondered why that was.

“Yes, I remember.” Sansa nodded, looking forward to her time with the princess. She had gotten along with princess Myrcella, but she had never truly put herself in positions to better their relationship while she was in Kings Landing before Myrcella was sent to Dorne. She was an elegant and courteous, and the two could have surely become very close if Sansa hadn’t been so obsessed and blinded of the dream she had believed she could have with Joffrey. Just thinking of her foolishness made her feel disgusted with herself.

Becoming close with Daenerys would surely make her life more fulfilling and less lonely. She would have another ally as well if she could win over the princess, and it might even improve her relationship and standing with Viserys as well. There was also the matter of how much Dany reminded Sansa of herself back in Kings Landing. She wanted to help her. No one should have to live like she had, she deserved better, she was a highborn, a princess of the north, and dutiful loyal woman. Dany was just as sweet of a girl as she had once been until she was forced to see the truth of the world, of the people she had thought were noble and good. 

Now she knew how to play the game of thrones, and she would not lose. She would have her revenge, she would be queen of Westeros and she would return the North to her brother. To do that she needed Viserys and if Viserys fell she would half to rely on Dany to take her family's throne, to be queen of Westeros herself and bring them both home. 

Examining herself in her looking glass, she assured that she was perfect, every tendril of hair in place, skin smooth and cheeks and lips rosey. She looked like her mother, and it pained her, so she turned away. Standing she smiled at Shae and took a deep breath.

“You must be careful, My Lady, this is just as dangerous a place as King's Landing, and the people the same.” Shae spoke to her in hushed voices, just before they prepared to leave for Viserys chambers down the hall.

Sansa nodded, she understood. She couldn’t make the same mistakes and so blindly trust everyone. She was in a foreign land, surrounded by cultures and traditions she had little knowledge of. Her husband to be was a scorned and exiled prince, with motive and a temper, she had to tread carefully in everything she did. She would never be truly safe unless she was home in Winterfell with her family, and that was unlikely to ever happen again so she would have to make do in the world, gain allies, find people she could trust and who would be truly loyal to her. And those would be few and hard to find from her experience. But no matter, she could not survive without others, she needed people she could depend on and who would protect her.

“But you’ll protect me, won’t you, Shae?” Sansa smiled lovingly at her handmaiden.

“Of course, I’ll kill anyone who tries to harm you. I won’t let you be hurt again.” Shae promised, remembering how powerless she had felt to see her lady be beaten at the order of that pathetic boy king, salving and bandaging Sansa’s fresh wounds every night and watching the light and innocence slowly disappear from her eyes.

Just then a knock sounded on the door. Sansa and Shae looked at each other for a moment before Shae opened the door, bowing her head when she saw Viserys on the other side.

He gave Sansa a once over look, and smiled at her, letting her know that he approved of her appearance. His smile was more of a grin, wide and charming she noted and accepts that she has pleased him happily. She curtsies and he bows in return, before offering her his hand. She takes it.

“It is such a warm and beautiful morning, I thought we would break our fast out on my terrace.” he explained, leading her to his most lavish chambers, Shae following and a few of his own guards accompanying them on the short distance from her room to his. 

His chambers are grand, off to the left in the direction of her room is his bedchambers, separated from the rest, the large double doors thrown open so she can see inside to the black silk sheets and the sheer, billowing curtains of the open arched windows. 

The room that she enters is a sitting room, chases and chairs strewn about. It is very open, with arched stone windows and marble floors. It is surprisingly sparce. There are painting on the walls, and one catches her attention as they cross the room to the terrace.

“Is this your mother?” Sansa wishes she had just bitten her tongue instead of speaking, she needed to remember to think before she spoke. Surely, his mother was a most sensitive topic.

Viserys stops suddenly at her question, and he throws a glance at the painting. “Yes.”

He continues to walk to the terrace, a table already set with plate and food, a sprawling spread of fruit, bread and milk. It was a very intimate and familiar setting.

He pulls out her seat for her, and tucks her into the table before taking his own seat across from her. The air is warm, the breeze gentle, loosening some strands of her hair from the confines of that day's design. They were quiet at first, picking from their plates and studying each other, as if trying to find something in the others face.

“I hope your sleep faired well, My Lady?” he asked at last.

Sansa thought to lie at first, but something told her that Viserys would only accept her utmost honesty, either he would appreciate it or he would be bored of her telling him.

“My bed and chambers are lovely, I haven’t been so comfortable in some time.” she nodded. “Though I am afraid I was plagued my night terrors.” 

“Oh, what of?” he became curious.

“Of my family, of my father's death. I dream of little else since it happened I’m afraid.” she spoke in a manner that she hoped would not bring him any concern, popping a grape into her mouth, followed by a small slice of cheese.

“I dream much of the same, it keeps me up all night some days.” he admitted to her, cutting a slice of bread from a fresh baked loaf and handing her a piece. She thanked him.

“I--I thought of my naming one of my sons after my father, but I can understand the insensitivity with the history between our families.” she bit her lip. Foolish girl, she shouted at herself, just be quiet!.

“Yes, but perhaps we can come up with a rendition, perhaps Eadmon, Edearys or Nedearys?” he offered her, and Sansa felt her heart sore, fluttering in her chest until she was afraid it would fly up her throat and away. She could still have her little Ned. 

“Thank you,” she tried not to cry, leaning forward and reaching a hand across to touch his, there face so close but she's just so happy she barely takes notice of the inappropriate space between them. He looked at her hand on his, then turned it over to better hold it in his. Her hand was so soft and warm. “I will give you many sons,”

She was sure of it, her mother and father's family were very fertile. Her father had two brothers and a sister, her mother was from brood of three as well, and she was one of five siblings. Surely she would be just as strong and fertile as her mother, or god help her, her life will be forfeit if she can not bare a living heir. 

“And daughters.” he added, leaning forward

“And daughters too,” she agreed, and before the moment cane be gone, they kissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, you guys are so great to have waited as long as you have for these updates. You are the absolute best. I hope you like where this is going, and let me know what you think in the comments.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on AO3 so please take it easy on me.


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